You Dirty Rat

When I was a child, I loved an "I Can Read" book called Mooch the Messy. The book begins with the sentence, "Mooch the rat lived in a hole, under a hill, in Boston, Massachusetts." Now that I live in Boston, I am somewhat less fascinated by the creatures. In fact, I am all for the widespread extermination of all vermin.

Over the past few days, I have had a couple of interesting rat experiences. The first was on Wednesday night at the Somerville Theater. JR and I had just sat down in our seats at a showing of Hamlet 2 when I felt something quickly brush against my foot. There was something about the experience that unsettled me, and, when I asked JR if she had just touched my foot with hers, she said no. The two of us freaked and immediately put our feet up on the seats in front of us. Unfortunately for me, I couldn't stay in that position for too long, and eventually I had to put my feet back on the ground. (JR has shorter legs than I do and was able to sit like that for the duration.) Every time JR shifted in her seat or moved at all, I had to make sure it was her and not something else. EEEK! (At least I didn't scream when it happened.)

Last night when I pulled into the parking lot, I noticed a streetwise looking cat watching our building's dumpster. Figuring it had some tasty prey within its sight, I watched it for a little while, kind of like an episode of "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom", just without Marlin Perkins. Suddenly, a rat come running out from behind the dumpster, headed straight for the cat. Instead of attacking the rat and there being a bloodbath of personal vindication, like had I expected, the cat jumped out of the rat's way and then ran behind the dumpster! Scaredy cat! (Not that I blame the cat. Those urban rats are crazy.)