The fight between a sprinkler and Maple

I pushed past the unlatched front gate and trotted down the sidewalk for my morning patrol. A sudden sharp click made me freeze mid-stride on the pavement. In the neighbor's grass, a brass sprinkler head popped up and began hissing, spinning a wild arc of water right across my path. I squared my shoulders and didn't budge an inch. When the jet whipped back toward me, I lunged forward with a quick snap, catching the icy stream directly across my muzzle. Water burst into cold droplets all over my chest. I gave my head a vigorous shake, satisfied that the grass-spitter knew not to push me around.