Breaching the Gate

I slipped out through the flap and marched straight across the damp patio toward the wooden back gate. Right beneath the bottom timber, a bright fuzzy yellow lump was jammed tight, acting like an unauthorized roadblock. A scuffed tennis ball, wedged solid and daring me to clear it out. I wasn't letting anything blockade my perimeter. I backed up three paces on the mossy stone flags, dug my stubby feet in, and launched my entire round body into a flying slam right against the rubber curve. Pop! The ball snapped loose and went bouncing away across the wet lawn. I planted both feet firmly in the cleared gap, puffed up my rind, and claimed the exit.