I like rats because . . .
they do not suddenly take it into their heads at eleven thirty at night to jump onto chest of drawers which they have jumped onto dozens of times in the past only this time they land at an odd angle causing the entire tall narrow structure to fall forward onto the floor disgorging a quantity of underclothing that mommy would prefer not to see disgorged not to mention tipping out a three-gallon aquarium which floods the room with approximately eight thousand gallons of water and sends eel slithering away under chair blissfully disregarding mommy’s attempt to catch him and dump him in critter keeper filled with life-giving water after which she rounds up every towel in the house and separates broken from non-broken and finally locates red-clawed crab under bed showing no interest in retreat to proferred shell leading to crab and eel and salvaged driftwood spending the night in bucket filled from aquarium with entirely different water and since they choose to survive the night requiring mommy to hop on bicycle first thing in the morning with unwashed hair and empty stomach to go to hardware store for earthquake strap and then to pet store which no longer stocks three-gallon system leaving mommy with choice between coughing up vast amount for six-gallon version or leaving critters in bucket for the better part of a week while ordering replacement tank from manufacturer, all of which almost causes mommy to forget rats’ granola when she finally has time to sit down with breakfast . . .
But I don’t forget the granola, because I like rats.
11 February 2005