There is a bit of me that says that as a Rat I should feel very honoured to be given my own place to write my feelings. It could be argued, after all, that my world is very small; consisting as it does of a cage of little more that a cubic metre, sat in the corner of a room. Further more, many would argue that a Rat is not so well versed in the artistry and majesty of a spoken language; though I would argue that point should it be desirous to do so.
But in the end, I spell the word Rat with a capital R -and that, in my humble and 20-centimetre opinion (excluding tail), says more than enough on the subject!
It is strange in many ways being a Rat. Not that I feel the sudden urge to be something else, as if I have woken up to find I am in the wrong pelt. It is just that I am surrounded by a lot that is very Not-Rat, and I have to relate it somehow.
So I sometimes find it strange.
I don't get out much as a rule. And I certainly have less of the adventure in me than when I was younger. But, from my hammock (or day-bed two, as I refer to it) I get a pretty good view of the television and I often find that I am watching far more of the world than one would expect in my situation. 'Scuse I - got an itch! Don't panic, I am flea-less. But I am sure this pelt is a bit loose. Must find some food to fill it up with.
Now, where was I - oh, yes; the television. Now you have to remember that I don’t get a look in on the remote front. I did try once, but it didn't taste very nice, to be honest. Not as good as a nice bowl of soup. Did I tell you I like soup? No? Well another time maybe. So, without recourse to Remote Power, what I watch is totally dependant on those big things that lump and thump around my world.
Much of what is shown is, to be honest, little more than swirling, meaningless shapes and sounds – little adapted to one of my stature. But on the odd time it does get interesting. I rather like the nature programs, though I have problems with creatures that have mastered the art of flying – something that I have completely failed to do. I did find a feather once which I thought might just do the trick. But I plummeted to the ground just as fast as I had before. It was a pink feather and that was probably the problem. For some reason, the sight of a plummeting Rat waving around a pink feather makes others giggle. How rude!
There was this particular documentary about a sloth, a hairy elephant and a tiger with big teeth. Of course they were just the supporting players – the real interest was this squirrel-like creature. He seemed to be having problems with storage, something to which I can empathise. Wherever he put his nuts, disaster struck. I have the same problem. I spend the whole week carefully storing one half of all that I harvest and then some thick head of a bear comes a long and Hoovers the whole lot up!
I always find more food, or course. And sometimes I get a treat – like the soup I was mentioning. Pumpkin was my favourite. It was really good, if a touch warm. The big lumps don’t always get that one – Rats aren’t used to hot food, we like it tepid. I know, call me fussy, but having been the main source of entertainment round the house for most of my life (which is a long time, let me tell you) I think I deserve some treats!
Talking of wish, I am feeling all limp. CHOCOLATE!!!!!
You can’t be subtle – not a bit of it!