A Better Mousetrap
out, stand in the middle of the kitchen floor, and squeak "Oh-oh!" in mouse language.
There ensued a chase of heroic proportions as Chester pursued the mouse through the front hall, into the living room, past where I sat in the dining room, and back into the kitchen. The mouse then disappeared back under the stove with a triumphant, defiant chirp that set Chester into a fit of outraged barking.
You might think that being chased by a dog twenty times its size might send a mouse packing, but no. The mouse came out two more times that day in escapades of increasing daring. The chase always ended with the mouse disappearing into its redoubt under the stove and Chester skidding across the floor and smashing his nose into the oven door. Tail drooping, he would return to where I sat.
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