Okay–so like this one time, I was in Science Camp in 6th grade, and it really sucked, an’ stuff. Because the camp counselors were taffers, and there was tainted food that made a lot of people sick. (They were the lucky ones, since they got to leave early.)
But anyways, on one of the days, we all went out to catch frogs, an’ stuff. And out by the lake where we all were, there was a big piece of plywood. Like, industrial-sized. And my friend Daniel and I were like, “Hey! It’s a big friggin’ piece of plywood! Let’s lift it up!”, so we did.
And there were like, hundreds of rats underneath it. It’s true! I swear!
They like, went crazy and started running everywhere, an’ stuff. And everybody else got all freaked out and started running and screaming an’ stuff. Even the counselors.
mmmmm… raaaaats… yuuuuummmmmmmm…
seriously, no. i like rats only if they’re clean (which, reading your post, they are probably not) and tame. no rabies or anything, and NO FLEAS. shudder [sub]i hate fleas…[/sub]
otherwise, i think they’re kinda cute.
Wow great fodder for a good nightmare. Bit of advice, don’t contemplate the image of squirming, writhing rats at 1am. And definately DON’T imagine them under your bed.
I like the rats that live in cages. I used to have one. I adore Templeton the Rat from Charlotte’s Web. But the kind of rats you see in NYC or DC? No. Those don’t seem as cuddly.
We had rats for awhile. Squeezed in here with the cats, dogs, lizard, and kid… but after two tumors and one strangling when she tried to get out of her cage I just havent had the heart to get another one. Besides the little shits up the street (who have since moved) stole my cage after I put it out to be washed.
We do currently have a mouse living in the pantry. Is that close enough?
There’s a certain…exotic beauty in albinism. I find myself strangely drawn to the eyes, especially. Pink, because of blood flow. With no pigment whatsoever.
I find myself strangely drawn to it in all animals in this way. Even humans.
(Although the eyes are usually kept covered because of photophobia.)
My friend Damien once had a houserat. Not the domestic kind, but the verminous kind. For some reason–it was the only rat that ever frightened me. Probably because it only came out at night–and only then when it would suddenly dart across the room at approximately eight-billion miles per hour before disappearing again.
It got inside his computer and made a huge mess out of all the wires an’ stuff.
I never knew how bad rats could be until I moved to NYC. Ughhghg. Terrible. Disgusting. I got a job at a bakery in NYC, and like most establishments it had a basement. They prepared some food in the basement, and stored lots of food and supplies down there. I worked on the ground level, but there were guys whose job it was to, among other things, send stuff up to the ground floor with a dumb waiter. In addition to their regular wage, they got paid $5 a rat for each rat they killed. They would find a “rathole”, make some noise, wait for a rat to come out, and smash it with something, like a shovel. To ensure they got paid, they would lay the rats out in a row until someone could count them and pay up. I was unfortunate enough to go downstairs on more than one occasion and find several dead bloody rats in a row, sprawled out there on the floor. And way bigger than I thought. Like the size of a baked potato that you get in a nice steakhouse. Echchch.
I didn’t think it could get any worse than that, ratwise. Wrong. I was “the new guy”, so it was often easier to do something for me, than to wait for me to do it myself. After a while there, I was expected to pull my own weight. One nightly chore that others always seemed to dread was to go to the basement and get tupperware lids for all the baked goods. I said I’d do it one night. I went downstairs, and looked for lids. I found several in the first room, but needed about 5 more. I had to go into the back room.
When you walk back there, you can see them skitter around: darting from one rathole to another, which you can’t really see, because everything is up on wooden crates. A big pile of lids was way in the back, in a corner. I found a way to walk all the way there, while avoiding the floor. I walked on the wooden crates, Frogger-style. As I got closer, this seemed to be even more of a good idea. I looked at the lids, and reached for them. As I did, I could see the floor turn a fuzzy gray beneath me. Underneath the crates on which I stood, scurried rats to many to count. Not like one or two, but an almost non-stop stream of them back and forth, to and fro. I tried not to notice them and got out of there as quickly as possible. I never volunteered to go down there again.
Nothing grosses me out more than the prospect of treating a place for rats. Not even spiders or yellowjackets bother me as much as rats (and I really don’t like spiders).
Even finding a dead one in a trap skeeves me out. Mice don’t, but rats…brrrr.
I won’t go on about the stories I could tell. Some of them aren’t pretty.
Diane, please get your rat a friend, they are very social animals and like to be kept in at least pairs.
Yes, I like rats. I have a small webssite devoted to rats, actually.
I currently have three, I’ve had up to 23 at once. I have friends who’ve had 60 or more at once.
My favorites are black berkshires (black with a white belly and socks), siameses, or anything with a forehead blaze. Yes, I am a geek.
My ex used to call our rats “Cats, version 2…smaller and faster.” I currently have one, and my roommate has two (all in the same cage). Lemmy is sorta peachy-colored with a white tummy, and ruby-colored eyes. She’s one of those world-conquering rats, too. Just ask her.
The new kitten is fascinated by the rat-cage, and probably will be until he gets his whiskers pulled.
