Hot Breath (Edited May 1st)

It was a summer’s day like any other in the year of 1997. The sun was shining and a persistent heat was invading the lungs, mouth, and nostrils of anyone outside. Among these adventurous types were myself, a short and fast nine year old, and my neighbor, Jimmy, who was a year younger and a foot shorter. Jimmy was an only child, so he was familiar with getting everything and anything he wanted. This was precisely the reason we were playing home run derby. If the decision were up to me, we would be in the pool.
As James spouted off some incredibly over the top introduction of himself as his favorite baseball player: “And now! from Pequannock, New Jersey!! the best player of all time!!! Derek Jeter!!!!” I sighed in a hot sweaty movement: “sigh.”
I threw the pitch slightly on the left side of the plate, Jimmy didn’t swing. He threw the ball back, and I tossed the ball to him a second time. Once again, no swing. This continued another time before Jimmy decided he liked the pitch I had delivered and he swung. The bat connected with the ball half heartedly and slowly rolled toward a tree. I hadn’t expected any great show of athleticism, and I was not surprised. After Jimmy struck out on the next pitch, I approached home plate. My strategy was simple. Swing at every pitch and get this game over with as soon as possible.
As Jimmy threw the first pitch I wound up and hit the ball much farther than he had. The ball sailed past his property line and bounced on the neighbor’s lawn. As I rounded third base I realized Jimmy was not retrieving the ball which was now rolling down the street. Once again, because of him being incredibly spoiled, he refused to get the ball, even though, as mandated by the rules, it was his responsibility to do so. Once again, in an over the top fashion, Jimmy threw a temper tantrum. In order to avoid a complete meltdown I decided to get the ball.
I slowly walked down the street, thoroughly enjoying my time away from Jimmy. As I stooped to pick up the ball I heard someone’s car keys jingling as they came out of the house. I looked sideways with my head remaining close to the ground and saw our neighbor’s Springer Spaniel bounding its way toward me from its back yard prison. This dog, Scooby, remains locked up in his small fenced in area everyday… except for today. With his new freedom he could do any number of things. Unfortunately he decided to charge directly at me with his floppy ears dangling at his sides, his tail swinging back and forth, and his sharp teeth dripping with saliva.
Completely forgetting about the ball in my hand I stood up immediately and yelled at the top of my lungs. Scooby was running full speed toward me and the distance was closing quickly. My fight or flight senses kicked in, and I ran for it. My brain wasn’t working correctly and I ran in a circle, still yelling as loud as I could. Scooby was close behind me and even on this warm day I could feel his hot breath on my ankles as I ran, terrified for my life. As I rounded turn three for the second time I saw my savior: a row of shrubbery lining the property line of two houses. I took my chance and dove over the hedges. Unfortunately in my panic I had forgotten about the jagged rocks on the other side of the greenery. In my adrenaline fueled escape I jumped much higher than needed and I landed harshly on my hands and knees un-followed by the menace. As I peered up I saw Scooby lose interest in the pursuit, now that his prey was out of reach, and become interested in something else.
As he trotted away, I stood up and brushed myself off to notice Jimmy cowering in fear inside his house. His eyes were just above the metal strip dividing the lower half of the door, which was made of glass, and the top half which was made of a metal mesh. As I picked up the ball I had flung from my hand as the chase began, Jimmy exited his sanctuary with his hands still shaking. I walked over to his house and flipped the ball to him: “We should have gone swimming.”