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Many
years ago, my children wanted a pet. They wanted a
puppy, but I said no. We had tried a bird, but its
feathers fell off. I suggested a goldfish, but we
settled on a gerbil instead.
One
day, the gerbil got loose. It got out of its cage
and scurried across the floor. It ran so fast that
none of us could catch it. We watched as it
disappeared under a crack in the wall. We stood
around, wondering what to do, but there wasn't that much
that could be done.
In
the months that followed, the gerbil made timely
appearances. It would scurry out from behind the
walls, run across the room, then dart back into the
walls. We'd chase it, lunging after it and screaming
as we ran.
"There
he is. Catch him!"
I
worried about the gerbil, even when we didn't see
it. "This isn't right," I'd think.
"I can't have a gerbil running loose in the
house. We've got to catch it. We've got to do
something."
A
small animal the size of a mouse had the entire household
in a tizzy.
One
day, while sitting in the living room, I watched the
animal scurry across the hallway. I started to lunge
at it, as I usually did, then I stopped myself.
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