“Keep your eye on the ball, Todd!”
The German shepherd squinted his eyes just like his favorite pro and tightened his grip on the handle of his bat; hands on top of each other, knuckles lined up. On the mound, the pitching machine stood ominously atop the wedge of dirt, blue metal glinting in the sunlight as the wheel spun furiously. Todd could hear the whine of the machinery, the bane of many a dog fresh from tee ball, but he felt fearless, determined, spurred on by the yells of his teammates.
“You got this, Todd!”
“Come on, Todd!”
“Pull your pants up, Todd!”
… Maybe not that last one.
From the mound, the coach held the ball up for the dog to see, a final, silent acknowledgement before he popped the ball into the slot. With baited breath and wide eyes, the entire team watched the ball notch into place on the pitching machine, then come spinning across the edge like a sharpening wheel. With a loud thunk, the ball came flying from the machine, towards the plate, with the German shepherd standing in place, and the weighted down catcher crouched behind it with his glove at the ready.
As soon as he could see the ball again, Todd took a step forward and set the rest of his body in motion. His wrists locked, his hips turned, and he brought the bat around in a wide arc, twisting his hands to complete the signature arc of a well-swung baseball bat.
The dog's practiced form and diligent ball-watching was rewarded with the satisfying crunch of aluminum on rawhide, and the ball went sailing off to a point in the sun, coming down somewhere in left field amid a patch of weeds and dandelions.
“Way to make contact, Todd!”
The German shepherd puffed his chest pridefully, pleased with himself and his successful batting practice, but some snickering from behind the backstop, rather than the cheering he expected, caught his attention. He frowned, looking back over his shoulders at his teammates, a couple of whom pointed at his waist.
A particularly enthusiastic swing had been a little too much for his joggers to take, and they'd fallen almost completely to his ankles, exposing a pair of baby blue-trimmed pull-ups made to resemble Big League Big Boy underwear. Apparently he'd concentrated too hard on his batting form as well, because they were clearly swollen and heavy between his legs, a sure sign of a little accident for the burgeoning little leaguer.
“Aw, man...” Todd grumbled, dropping his bat and bending down to collect his pants and pull them back up over his not-diapers, tightening the drawstring as best he could, scowling weakly at the good-natured teasing from his teammates.
“Gonna need to see you in a belt next practice, Todd.” The coach's booming voice came from the mound, doing his best not to chuckle as well. “Alright, let's get some base-running in before you boys go home!”
