Rats

Weese is having critter issues. Her rat tale prompted the following memory.

I was four, maybe five years old. Dad was notorious famous for bringing home strays, mostly dogs. Many times we’d come from school, mom from work to find yet another different animal. These strays never stayed around long. They were there today, gone tomorrow pets. We hardly had time to name them before they were gone.

Mom was none too pleased with this habit. She and dad didn’t usually fight openly in front of us but mom was not shy about making her feelings known about these strays.
Dad always seemed able to calm her fears and concerns. After the initial heat, she seemed resigned to the new additions. Each time though, he promised, no more. A few days/weeks after the latest stray disappeared, a new one would appear.

One night after we were in bed, dad came bouncing up the stairs. His excitement barreled through our door and propelled us out of bed. We wanted to see the new stray.
Mom’s shriek blocked our forward motion. Dad had something, but it wasn’t a stray dog.
“Go. Back. To. Bed. Now!”

Through the door we heard that dad had brought home a rat. The rat in a mayonnaise jar, was according to mom, was a filthy, nasty, deadly . . . thing. “I do not want that, that THING!” around my kids.

Dad tried to assure mom that all would be well. She wasn’t buying that bill of goods, but she seemed to ease up a bit. It got quiet, except for the opening/closing of the sun-porch door.

We got up the next morning and though we were scared we were still eager to see the cause of all the overnight drama. We bolted towards the sun-porch but mom yelled for us to not go out there. Dad was on our side, “oh, let them see.” He went out to retrieve his find, his capture. He came back in from the sun-porch holding a mayonnaise jar full of big filthy, nasty DEAD rat.

The discussion from the previous night started anew. We were sent outside to play.

Sometime during the night, mom had stuffed aluminum foil in the air-holes dad and poked in the lid of the mayonnaise jar. Over the course of the next 2 or 3 years that they were together, dad continued to bring home strays. But that was the first and last rat.

I’ve seen a few rats since, however only one other on the inside of the apartment/house in which we were living. It wouldn’t bother me one whit to go the rest of my life without seeing another one, alive or dead.