Rats can jump and other nightmares

I don’t really understand why people are scared of rats. Big, gross, wound-eating sewer rats withstanding, rats are cute, creative and interesting critters to have in your home. Strictly on a pet-owner basis that is. Personally, a lot scares me. I hate scary shit-in-your-pants and lets-hack-everyone-into-pieces type movies. I fundamentally do not understand the rationale that says these movies are enjoyable. I just don’t like the edge of my seat, or the view from behind my pillow, or waking up after having nightmares about long fingernail-wielding cannibal pensioners. Last night I had an uneasy sleep commandeered by nightmares. I awoke multiple times from nasty dreams full of running, hiding and murdering. The fear only intensified when I woke, whimpering like a 3 year old in need of a cuddle, terrified of the dark and the host of terrible possible ways to be tortured or killed it suddenly seem to have. Undoubtedly, I am an epic wuss. But rats? Scary? Lies.


Judge them by their Hollywood-esq reputation and you will find them dirty, evil, devilish bastards. But get to know one, and you’ll doubtless be converted. (And if you aren’t, I suggest you go right out and buy yourself a heart.) My rat Olive, who I may or may not have made frequent recent to of late, is anything but scary, even if she does tries to attack your feet whilst you walk. We’ve had 4 rats in this house over the years, and they have all had interesting and entertaining personal quirks and interests. Olive is nothing if not an adventurer. There is officially nowhere in my room that she cannot go. (And yes, I let her run wherever she likes in my room.) She has conquered my bookshelves, can negotiate her way onto my dressing table, knows all the ins and outs of my closet and, just recently, has become such a good jumper that she can hop from the rubbish bin, to my desk chair, and onto my desk in the blink of an eye. She may be a nightmare to keep track of, but let me tell you she is so much more entertaining than TV. (By the by, I am deathly sick of hearing about the new independent MP’s, anyone else?)This afternoon while lazing around sleepy from my nightmare-filled night, I have seen her climb, almost comically, inside a jar, climb up the fly screen on my door, happily shred the paper in my rubbish bin and sneakily make off with my strategically placed post-it notes, which she not-so-sneakily proceeds to destroy. I think perhaps in a previous life she may have been Sir Edmund Hillary, or Indiana Jones himself...

And I’m going to stop right there, lest I waffle another 100 words about how extraordinary my child is. Rat, I meant rat.