Guest Post By Lucy The Rat

Me!
Me!

Hiya all!

Because my person is getting assaulted by whimsy at Disney World, I was asked to take over his blog this week. It’s great to be here!

So! I understand that many of you are Crazy Cat People. My person and I are not fans of cats. Did you not know that?

And it’s worse than you think. Last year, my person even installed a gun turret on the roof of his KIA Spectra. Whenever he is unable to sleep; or gets writer’s block; or has that strange, faraway look in his eye, he’ll hop in the car and cruise around the neighborhood searching for feral cats to spray with bullets.

Even I find this behavior disturbing.

But I have said too much. Let’s just sat that my person has a touch of the cray-cray and leave it at that.

Anyhoo… The day after my person left for Disney, I decided to visit the local gals who live under the Burger King dumpster.

So we were all chewing the fat (literally) and getting along really well, when I say to them, “Hey! We should start a business!”

And they’re all like, “How can a bunch of sewer rats go into business?”

And I go, “Well, a bunch of sewer rats can’t go into business, but a bunch of sewer rats AND a domesticated fancy rat can move mountains! And by ‘move mountains’ I mean ‘rob a Wallgreens!’”

The sewer rats agreed, and a good time was had by all.

On a related note, I have a rat cage full Pall Malls that need to move ASAP. I know Pall Malls are pretty much only smoked by gas station attendants, but if you’re willing to switch brands and/or become a gas station attendant, I’ll make it worth your while. $1.50 a pack. That is not a typo, Cat People. To get a great deal like that anywhere else you would need a Hot Tub Time Machine. So gimmie a call.

Or if you don’t smoke, no prob. I’ll use my time here to chat with you about anything at all. Fire away, peeps!

I’m Going to Disneyworld!

As many of you know, I am pro-rodent (or “prodent”). So it is only right that I should periodically have a meet ‘n’ greet with a giant mouse in Florida.

Because of this, I won’t be able to do much of anything on this blog for the next two weeks.

But don’t worry; my pet rat, Lucy, promised to write something pithy during my absence.

My understudy.
My understudy.

Here’s hoping she’ll keep her profanity in check. For once. 

Happiness is a Warm Doggy

My pal.
My pal.

A few years ago, on a scorching hot workday in August, I visited a Princeton area farm. I was there to oversee a photo shoot for The Lawrentian, and, while the place was idyllic and lovely, I would’ve rather been doing almost anything else — as long as that “anything else” included air-conditioning.

It was one of those days where it felt like I was being assaulted by the sun. A few minutes after we had begun to work, I was soaked through, exhausted, and crabby beyond words.

During a break in the action, I wandered over to the farm store to buy a frozen cider slushie and an apple donut. As I sat there on the store’s covered porch and ate, an old yellow dog lying in the sun in front of me raised her sleepy head, glanced in my direction and decided that I was the type of fellow she’d like to get to know better. She toddled over and flopped down next to me as if we belonged together.

I was sort of honored.

I pet her belly with my left hand and continued to eat with my right.

“This,” I remember thinking, “is what I want my heaven to be like.”

This moment of bliss was quite a turnaround for me. Ten minutes before I met that dog, I was grumbling about the heat. Five minutes after that, I was filled with exhausted relief, thanking God for creating a world that included the cider slushie. And five minutes after that, my heart was full of peace and joy.

I never wanted that moment to end. And, in a way, it didn’t; every time I recall it, I relive it, and I can’t help but smile.

That’s pretty much the way happiness works, I think. At least it’s the way it works for me. It is at once elusive and right in front of my face.

Wanna share a small, happy moment? Please do! Write me a comment!