Rat

Rain

I should have looked to the ants. They always know what is going to happen. When they build up their ant hill you know it is going to rain; when they abandon their ant hill completely, you know it is going to rain hard.

The ants were all in the trees, hiding in the bark. In places there were so many of them that the bark couldn't hold the weight and they would crash down to the ground far below. And then they would climb right back up that tree, because none of them wanted to get caught in the rain.

I was not that smart.

I watched the ants with envy as a heavy droplet of water fell on my head. It ran down my neck, made my spine shiver. No, I was not as smart as the ants--I was caught out in the rain. I could see my burrow across the yard. It was so very far away. I could race over to it, but by the time I got there I would be saturated.

Of course, I was saturated now.

I looked across the yard. There were large puddles forming, and there was a small stream of water running from the top of the yard down to the bottom. The rain was getting heavier; a few moments ago it had been dry and I had been laughing at the ants. What silly creatures, I thought. Couldn't they see that there were no clouds in the sky, that the land was dry? I am constantly reminded that I am a fool.

But is a fool required to be wet? Of course not. It was time for action.

I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. Then I started running. I ran away from my shelter--a tree, which did not have very wide leaves and was actually a pretty poor shelter--and then the rain really hit me. It was as though the sky was ripped in two and an ocean of water was thrown down at me. It was incredible. The sound that pounded in my ears consumed me. I was drowning in the roar.

And yet I ran and I ran and I ran. I darted through puddles, deftly jumped over small, temporary rivers. I slid in the mud and rebounded and kept running. I could see my burrow. It was so very close. I would be warm in there. Everything was dry in there.

I reached my burrow.

I dove headfirst into the hole and tumbled down into I reached the bottom. Finally, I was dry. Well, yes and no--the burrow was dry but I was a wet mess. I looked out of the hole and saw rain pelting down. It was like a wall outside my little hole. I couldn't even see the trees in the distance. I could only see water as it fell.

Slowly, I could see more water. A small puddle appeared by the lip of my burrow. I didn't notice it at first, it was so small. But it grew--and grew.

I watched in despair, because there was only ever going to be one outcome. Sure enough, the puddle grew so large that it burst its little bank and started flowing down into my burrow. Soon I was wet. A few minutes more and I was almost swimming. I was stuck with a choice: stay in the buddle and risk drowning, or flee back into the rain.

I didn't want to leave. This was my home. And yet the water was rising so fast that I would soon be flooded. There really was no choice at all.

Into the rain I went.