Super Rat

Often enough, when I go outside to the kitchen at night--more often, really, than I would like--I will see the tail-end of a rat just disappearing into whatever hiding spot the rat has chosen, usually the drainage hole by the side of the washing machine. Surely, they have heard me coming, and have begun their dash before I open the door. 

There was one last night, however, who is apparently hard of hearing, or had merely allowed himself to become too engrossed in whatever he was doing, for this one was still lurking on the kitchen counter when I came out. Being caught thus with his pants down, so to speak, desperate measures were called for. I could not help but feel some awe and admiration as the rat ran past the sink and leaped to the top of the washing machine--some six feet in distance. Incredible! But his performance was not done. Having landed with a thump on the washing machine, he then dived off the edge to the ground, some four additional feet below. And he landed already running! 

An amazing rat indeed, possessing physical abilities certainly far beyond my own. Clearly, in his panic, he quite needlessly over-estimated my prowess. 

I suppose the rats inspire me in at least one positive sense. They inspire me to keep the kitchen counter as clean as possible, leaving nothing of interest to them. Of course, that doesn't stop them from checking it out anyway, or from bedding down in the cupboard drawers, which I find they are still doing whenever I remove the sticky paper therein.

And I have never seen a rat inside the house--which I count to be mighty considerate of them.

I do, however, occasionally find a frog in the house. Frogs tend to take note of their mistake, and hop back out the door. But the other night, while watching something on the laptop, I happened to see a very small frog hoping around in the front room. I tried to capture this frog, but it hid under the heavy dishware cupboard, and had still not reemerged by the time I turned in for the night. I remember thinking that this might mean bad news for the frog.

I found him in the morning, sprawled out by the front door, and dead as a doornail. What happened to him, I cannot say. Perhaps frogs need moisture, or die of dehydration. Perhaps he was attacked by the cicak lizards who live in the house. Perhaps he was bored to death. I dunno. But he was dead, and kind of flat and dried up, like a pressed flower. Poor little feller. 

The doors of my house are always open--front door and back door. Critters come in and go out--all kinds of critters, including human critters. I don't mind at all--as long as they don't make a racket while I'm trying to sleep.