John was not enjoying himself either. When he had finally caught the thing with a wooden spoon and a cardboard box, he opened the back door to throw it out (it was climbing up the edge and trying to escape so he had to act fast). But Toby the terrier was sitting right there on the back porch when he opened the door and so John just had to make a mad flip with the box and hope that Toby would be true to his terrier-heritage and go chase it unto its death.
Toby forgot he was a terrier. He usually does. He sat and looked on serenely as Stuart Little turned tail and ran between John's legs straight back into the house and down the stairs to the basement. Where he is now hosting a party and proposing a toast with all his little friends..."To the Hollingsworths. And to Toby the terrier! What wonderful hosts they are!" They are completely unaware of the four sinister mousetraps waiting silently in the laundry room for them.. And the batch of poison sitting in my pots'n'pans cupboard. As well as in the attic. Enjoy your party, little rodent friends. We WILL get the last laugh.