In the night I awake with his squeaks,
quivering nose he scampers around,
and I with my broom and stick,
the trap with a cheese, an open-fridge,
the race with the rat is once again set,
on my battlefield, on his playground,
he the prankster, me the pet.
Just a perfectly formed and delightful poem as you’re ever likely to come across anywhere in the poetic universe!
Thanks a ton Louis.