COLUMN: The Rat Whisperer
I was talking to my rats, Tom and Ray, the other evening.
True, I was a little drunk. But so were they, and you know what cheap drunks rats are. So, you think I’m a crazy John Nash without the math skills; O.J. without the good lawyer; Bush without Florida voting booths?
Why me? Some guy writes a book about whispering to horses and he is rolling in cash and gets Robert Redford to portray his life story. I talk to my rats once in a while and people start rolling their eyes and handing me Prozac under the table. It isn’t fair. Which brings me back to rats. If 74 years ago Walt Disney would have alliterated “Ricky Rat” instead of Mickey Mouse, everything would be different. Rats would be cute and mice would be vermin. So there we were sharing our mutual angst and talking about evolution and stuff.
You guys seem to have done pretty well evolutionarily speaking. You are prolific and adaptable. How come you ended up the pets and me the master?
“Can rats laugh?” I thought. I could have sworn I heard them laughing.
“Dude, of course we were laughing, and we can talk too,” Ray said. “We generally just choose not to. Did you ever think that just maybe we just passed on the chance to evolve? I mean look at you and your opposable thumbs. Whoop-tee-do – where has it got you? Who’s feeding who here? You’ve done some cool stuff, like beer, we like beer. It was something we never had patience for. Who has time for fermentation when you have a three-year life span?
“Well thanks, I think. But come on, we humans also have the big brains.”
“And?” Tom and Ray said in unison.
“Well – built a lot of stuff.”
“Yeah great then why are so many of you trying to get back to living off the land and simplifying your lives,” Tom asked. “Why are you all so angry at each other all the time?”
“Yeah we don’t have big brains, but they are big enough,” Ray added. “We can live anywhere and eat anything. And, as a bonus, bozos like you give us a nice warm cage, clean up our turds and feed us. Sure it is not as cushy as dogs and cats, but it beats dumpster diving. Which reminds me, what’s up with that? You feed us and all those hairball cats but you let a bunch of your own kind starve to death?
“Evolved? Yeah right,” Tom said. “Go ahead, have another beer dude.”
Dennis Hinkamp’s column appears every The Statesman. Comments can be sent to him at slightlyoffcenter@attbi.com.