Fast forward now, if you will, through the great chickens-in-the-trees escapade, the fuse-box waterfall, bathtub skating rink, and all the pleasures of citified folk moving to the great expanses of the country in the dead of one of the worst winters we have ever had. It was all worth it though....the work was harder but more rewarding, the air was quiet and clean, the wind fresher, even the rain and snow were different...more like a gift from Mother Nature than an uncomfortable inconvenience. The very best thing though, was the wildlife. Deer coming right into the backyard and in the spring the fawns racing and sproinging in the fields right before dusk. Raccoons and porcupine, pheasant and skunks, rabbits, field mice, fox, ground hogs and chipmunks have all made their way to the back porch where scraps and fresh water always awaited them. Every creature who had nerve enough to brave its way up the steps and into the little food niche was welcome. But of course, as you have already predicted I am sure, the "new" rat would have none of this. The little sheltered cove was not good enough for him....The clean washed blankets and fresh cool water and carefully collected food scraps would not do. "He" needed to be inside with us, eating and drinking out of Missy's bowls. When she first started displaying her "rat" behavior, I did not think much about it. There were after all, plenty of cats that came free with the farmette, and everyone knows that farms have cats so that there are no rats. City-folks know that, that is. But what they don't know is that they are wrong. Farms have rats. They can have cats, but they are also always gonna have rats. Cats know better than to mess with them. Sure, they may find and torture to death the young ones, but the older ones....the really BIG ones, they leave alone. Well, Missy knew this, but we were still city-folk and naive so we ignored her "rat" behavior until one day one of the scurrilous creatures was seen skulking along the mopboard.
Now, I love animals, and I am hard-pressed to find many that I think ought to be obliterated from the face of the earth, and if the truth be told, I have on occasion even thought that rats were cute, but at the very moment I saw this thing creeping along I turned murderous. Deadly. Hell-bent on forming a posse and annihilating this rat. I wanted to see blood and guts, a crushed skull, matted fur.....you get the idea. So, I went to get a hammer and awakened John and we went on a rat hunt through all the downstairs rooms til we found the poor, doomed thing. A plan was made; I was to approach it from one side and cut off its escape while John closed in from the other and landed a swift and humane skull-shattering blow. I moved forward slowly....the rat didn't move a whisker. I approached nearer and John did the same from the other side. It still didn't move a whisker, just looked at me with those shiny black eyes. I was beginning to think this was all going to be too easy when all of a sudden the thing darted towards me, over my bare toes and up my leg. John has always been fast. He was an excellent boxer because of his speedy reaction time, and this time was no different. He lunged at the rat, hammer blows raining down all around it and my ankles, toes and legs til the rat decided he was going in the wrong direction and dove from my leg to the floor and underneath the closet door. We already knew there was a place in there for him to make good his escape where the heating duct was a bit smaller than the hole cut around it. I looked at John. He looked at me.
"And just what the hell was THAT all about?" I snarled. "You kept smashing me with the hammer instead of the rat!"
"Oh", he said, "I didn't think you'd notice".
Some things are just best left unsaid.
© Felinda 01-24-1998