Whiskers and the Robot Mouse

Whiskers was a hunter. A great hunter. A legendary hunter. At least, that is what Whiskers told everyone, usually while napping.

So when the human brought home a small gray object and placed it on the rug with great ceremony, Whiskers examined it with professional interest. It was mouse-shaped. It had a tail. But it didn't smell like a mouse, didn't squeak like a mouse, and — most suspicious of all — it had a tiny glowing blue eye.

Whiskers sniffed it. The object did nothing. "Amateur," thought Whiskers, and turned away to wash his paw with great dignity.

That was his first mistake.

The human pressed a button. The mouse's eye glowed brighter. It twitched. It spun in a circle. And then — ZOOM — it shot across the rug at a speed no mouse had any business reaching.

Whiskers' dignity evaporated instantly. He launched himself after it with a battle cry that sounded like "MRRRP!"

What followed was the greatest chase the living room had ever witnessed. The robot mouse zigzagged under the sofa. Whiskers followed, bonking his head. It darted behind the curtains. Whiskers followed, getting tangled. It did a perfect loop around the coffee table. Whiskers attempted the same loop and knocked over a cushion, a magazine, and the human's dignity along with his own.

Finally, panting and slightly dizzy, Whiskers cornered the mouse behind the bookshelf. He raised one massive white paw for the final pounce...

...and the mouse's battery died. It just stopped, mid-beep, and lay there.

Whiskers stared at it. Then, very carefully, he lay down next to it and pretended he had meant to nap there all along. The human took seventeen photos.

To this day, Whiskers insists he won. And honestly? The photos suggest he had a wonderful time losing.