Monday, August 21, 2000

 

12:27 a.m. I guess Igor and the rat have developed some kind of weird psychic bond. Lately, in fact, ever since the thing fell through the window, it's only been Igor who has seen him. Tonight was no exception.

Only this time, Igor has fabulous photographic evidence. But first, I must explain some of the perils of taking candid action shots. Yes, I must explain those boxes.

You see, I pretend here in these pages that I keep a really nice house. A lovely nest for the family, a place like a place in a magazine. It's what I also pretend to myself, and if I want to, I can take a nice shot of most any room at (al)most any time of the day or night and I'd be proud to show it to you.

However, there's been this little filing problem that I thought I'd be finished with by now, and truth to tell, well, I'm not. I've stacked the boxes and started working on the pesky files, but I've also gotten caught up and preoccupied in other, more pressing things.

The box at the very front of the photo has some files in it, ready to go. The boxes to the back right of the photo are still to be emptied. There is, however, a darn pretty stencil on the stair step, don't you think? I did that, and not in Photoshop, either.

The last time we had a small furry visitor and I was able to take his picture, I actually had to do some tub cleaning with the eraser tool. The demands of the really great shot do not allow any quick housekeeping, you know. This time, there's really no way I could hide all the boxes and still get the shot. So, there's the kitchen and there's the rat.

Notice a little piece of paper sticking up right outside the circle? That's the poison and he's just eaten a whole lot of it. I feel bad about this. He was so hungry -- and he trusted us enough to eat our food and now the nasty Ratbegone is coursing through his system.

We tried to lure him outside, again, but I think he'd have none of it. Igor poked and prodded a little with the broom, but he wasn't as vigilant as I'd liked. I, meanwhile, was barricaded behind a closed door and things stuffed all around the edges of it, so I had to direct the maneuvers by shouting encouragement from a safe distance.

So now, we wait. If it's an escaped actor Rat, I expect he'll wait for Igor to come down for coffee in the morning and then perform his death scene in the middle of the floor. I would expect nothing less. If he dies in the walls ... well, we'll know that, too.

Here, for your extra added pleasure, is a blowup and a bit of lightening:

Pretty scary, eh?

Wouldn't you just scream and jump up on the nearest stool or chair? And always wear shoes and turn on every light and check the entire bathroom before you dare to close the door and perhaps trap yourself in there with it? I didn't touch his face -- that's what he really looks like. Euwwwww.

The good thing to come from all this is the fact that on Saturday night, when he showed up in the kitchen after a few days of laying low, I had really just about given up hope for a topic. I was really really considering maybe skipping a day. You know -- same old, same old.

And then he streaked across the floor and I couldn't wait to get to the keys to tap out my tail of woe. So, I'm very thankful to him for that. I hope he doesn't suffer too much. Maybe he ran outside, threw up, and will live happily ever after, next door.

It could happen. There could be a happy ending for him. He is, after all, a Hollywood rat.