"Hmm," Mickey said, rubbing his chin. "These are for 'Pluto's Best.' What's first?"
But Pluto was nervous. He whimpered and spun in three circles, his tail tucked. The course had tunnels, a wobbly bridge, and worst of all—a scary vacuum cleaner at the finish line that spit out tennis balls.
Mickey snapped his fingers. "The duct tape!" He ran over and wrapped two strips of duct tape sticky-side-out around Pluto’s paws. Now, every step stuck to the logs like a climber's shoe. Pluto trotted across, steady as a statue. picking the mouseketools in pluto's best
The crowd cheered. Goofy tossed his hat. Daisy clapped. Pete grumbled, "Lucky dog."
Pluto saw his chance. He bounded forward, snagged the biggest tennis ball in his mouth, and crossed the finish line just as the timer hit zero. "Hmm," Mickey said, rubbing his chin
At the starting line, the tunnel was dark and rustled with leaves. Pluto refused to go in.
Mickey knelt down. "You did it, Pluto! You picked the best path, and we picked the best tools." The course had tunnels, a wobbly bridge, and
Mickey pulled up the Mousekedoer. "We need a... Mousketool!" A spinner landed on a familiar jingle. Oh, Toodles!