Logan's Dig

We’ve got baseball this evening and tomorrow.  It got rained out last week and the boys were very disappointed.  There’s a chance it will be rained out this evening too.  I hope not.  I’m not very good at teaching baseball at home.  I’m not very good at teaching it anywhere else either.  That’s why I didn’t volunteer to coach.

I wonder if I could be a sports writer.  How hard can it be?  Emminson hit a line drive down the third base line, wobbling, and the bounce was fair.  Jannich scrambled but was too late to stop the winning run by the Canadian powerhouse, Eh-Rod.

Logan’s Dig
by Jon Stark
April, 2014; 227 words

                Logan ran back and forth for a minute, totally unsure of what he should do.  Everything had happened so fast and now he was stuck.  And alone.  He was in a courtyard of sorts, surrounded by a high fence on three sides and the building to the south.

                Logan slowed his pace to a trot and took measure of his predicament.  The fence seemed too high to scale but the only way know for sure was to go for it.  So he did.  The fence was too high and he was stuck in the courtyard.

                Next up were the gates.  He knew of at least two, both of which had locks he couldn’t open.  After running back and forth between them for a moment he set out to carefully examine every inch of the fence on the chance that there was another gate he hadn’t noticed.  Or that a section had broken offering him a new path.

                There were no such treasures to find.  He was without a portal through the fence.  That left only the least desirable action.  Logan hated digging but if it was the only way out, it was what he had to do.  He attacked the dirt and grass with the gusto he usually reserved for chasing tennis balls, his paws tearing through soil and stone oblivious to the pain.  Must. Get. Out.