People spend a whole lot of money getting rid of rodents.
And I’m spending a lot of money buying them. (And by "a lot of money" I mean "more than zero", which is precisely how much a rodent is worth, as far as I’m concerned.) The boys have been begging and begging for small, furry pets of their own for months and months, and I have drug my feet as long as I can.
After the whole our-dog-went-crazy ordeal earlier in the fall, I knew we were toast. The rodents would be unavoidable now. I did enough homework and learned that (*shudder*) rats seem to make excellent pets. I bought the boys a book on the subject, told them they all three have to read it, cover to cover, and learn every little detail about rat care. They have devoured it.
(It’s funny–when you write a blog post about rats, words like "devour" suddenly take on a creepy new meaning.)
They have to learn all the rat-care details, because I do not want to see the rats, or touch them, or hear them, or smell them. And HEAVEN HELP ME I do not want to see them scurrying across my living room.
In fact, the only reason I’m even tell you about this is because I suspect there will be rat stories to tell, and very soon. The Dryer rats may become a source of great blog fodder around here. And if not, Melanie has a cat.
(I’m kidding! It’s a joke! No nasty e-mails from the animal lovers, please.)
Seriously, if any of you has words of wisdom for this soon-to-be rodent owner, feel free to share your advice below. UNLESS you once had a rat, and it escaped from its cage and gave the whole family the Plague. If that’s case, please keep your trap shut.
("Trap." There’s another word with a new meaning…)