Droppings

Are you writing about rats?, asks my Visitor. Yes, but not humorously. I promised that – not to write about rats humorously. There’s nothing funny about rats, we’ve agreed. They’re disgusting, says my Visitor, and though I don’t find them disgusting, they’re not humorous. You can’t write in a funny way about rats, we’ve agreed. Or write about them at all, says my Visitor, but I disagree.

Rats are constantly chewing, I tell my Visitor; they have to; their incisors never stop growing. If they stopped chewing, their incisors would eat through the walls of their mouth, I tell her. Imagine that! They’re chewing now, I tell her, outside, in their nest next to the drains. Constantly chewing, they’ve got no choice. It’s an instinct, I tell her. What do you think they chewing?, I ask her. The pipes? That wouldn’t be good. The brick? Surely not …

But they’re chewing something, there’s no question of that. They have to. Their incisors are constantly growing, I tell my Visitor. They’ll grow through the roof of the mouth – through lips (if rats have lips). And they’ll grow through the bottom of the mouth, all the way down, through the jaw and out. Disgusting, says my Visitor, I don’t want to know.

Rat droppings on concrete. Black elongated pellets, 10 or 12 of them, say, scattered, some forming a hapharzard pile, the others loose. Rat droppings! It must mean they’re thriving, I tell my Visitor, despite the poison. Perhaps they like it, the poison. Perhaps not enough poison was put down. Either way, they’re eating and digesting; they’re thriving, in a way.

Imagine it! Still alive! Two days after the poison! They live for 1-3 after days eating poison, it said on the tub. Perhaps they’ll die tomorrow. Perhaps not! Imagine! Well, the pest people are coming out on Tuesday, I tell my Visitor. She’s off on Monday, but the pest people will be there the next day. I’m really sorry about the rats, I tell her.