The Return of the Rodent

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And I came face to face with a rat. Face to whiskers actually. Sure, it was a ceramic masterpiece. But a rat is still a rat. The fact that it was sitting on a display shelf doesn't change anything, and my close-to-ultrasonic shriek was fully justified.

I turned around discretely to make sure nobody was filming that. I didn't care if Steven Spielberg considered me for the role of an Indo Triceratops in Jurassic World 5.

If you were wondering what I was doing that bright day, socialising with a rodent figurine, I was spring cleaning.

The polished white, ceramic rat was quite an eyesore. The reason I couldn't throw it in the garbage bin can be alluded to the fact that a close relative presented it to me. So I had no choice but to display the figurine on my shelf.

But every day it seemed to get uglier. Today was the last straw, I decided. One look at the rat and I knew I couldn't risk getting embarrassed by that monstrosity. I was going to throw it out.

I dumped the dusty cloth I was holding, on the chair in the kitchen and scooped the rat off the shelf. It didn't really protest.

I racked my head to find a place where I could dispose of the thing. Some place where the evidence of the crime wouldn't be unearthed. After a minute, an idea struck me.  "Yep, that's where it goes" I muttered, heading outside to the garden.

I don't particularly love my neighbours.  So naturally, I tossed the rat into their garden, right across the fence. Humming happily, I sauntered back into the house. The evidence was now in their territory.

Half an hour later, I remembered Alex was outside, nosing some poor cricket in the backyard. As though right on cue, the adorable husky bounded inside, tracking mud everywhere, and a not-so-adorable thing he dragged in with his teeth.

I groaned, seeing the white, ceramic monstrosity that Alex considered his new toy. "No, you're not playing with that! You'll break all your dog teeth off," I muttered, trying to prise the rat from his clutches. Apparently, it doesn't take much to distract a husky, because he happily dropped it and went bounding after the neighbour's cat.

I scooped up the tiny sculpture and decided to throw it somewhere an enthusiastic canine wouldn't get his canines on it.

Namely, the corner of our flower patch that had been dug up.

Alex hated that spot with the wet mud, so I doubted he would get to the cursed object that I'd throw there. Heading outside, I walked up to the flower patch and found the dug-up spot. I placed the figurine in the slight burrow, originally meant for some blossoming tulips. I hoped the gardener was tipped well and wouldn't report that as cruelty towards animals. I rushed back inside, hoping to finish spring cleaning at least by the day ended.

Half an hour later, my brother walked in. If I hadn't been busy sneezing, I would have noticed his smug grin as he crept up and placed something on the display shelf beside me. I turned back to the shelf and shrieked again.

"Where'd you get that?" I admonished him for startling me, but moreover for bringing that disgusting thing back into my house and life. He burst out laughing and explained. "I spotted it in the garden. I just KNEW it would do the trick! It was so realistic..." He collapsed into laughter again.

I smacked my forehead. This was the second time somebody (or something) had wrecked my day by bringing in the ghastly white, ceramic rat.

Without thinking, I grabbed it off the shelf and headed outside the way I had done twice already. This time, I knew where the faux rodent would go. Into the trunk on the porch that contained old newspaper and magazine issues!

Nobody really bothered the trunk too much, and I figured that an immobile figurine wouldn't have much of a chance to get discovered in the papered depths of hell.

Back inside I went, after having completed the heinous crime. I was expecting a friend over in ten minutes. My friend is what you'd call a photography enthusiast. Not a photographer, mind you. The best picture she's ever taken is that of a car tyre rolling on the grass in her garden. I don't ask questions.

Sure enough, soon I heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel outside, I went to the kitchen to wash up and then returned to the hall.

"Hi!" she greeted, smiling as she saw me. "I just came over to return the photography magazine you'd lent me last week," she explained, gesturing to the newspaper trunk on the porch.

I nodded, and then my eyes grew wide in alarm. The newspaper trunk?

She continued. "Yeah, and I found this curious little thing," she said, revealing the object in her hand. There was a huge moan, and it must have been from me. How many times was this horrendous rat going to plague my life?

But this time, I didn't get a chance to snatch it from her and hammer it into tiny pieces. Alex came bounding up and spotted his old playmate in my friend's hand. He immediately lunged for it. My friend probably wasn't used to enormous huskies lunging at her, because she screamed and let go of the ceramic atrocity. The dog was happy to be reunited with his precious... thing, and they headed to the garden together.

Like any sane person, I gave up after that. As for the small, white rodent, it now sits on the display shelf. Back in its original place. Who knows? I might grow to like the thing...

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