Rat

Dear Annie,

Believe it or not, in college I had a pet rat. I don't know what I was thinking really. Perhaps I had read Flowers for Algernon one too many times. I remember driving down to Santa Rosa with a friend, walking into Petco and picking out the rat. The Petco employee informed me that my rat was a female. I named her Aphrodite.

Aphrodite was the cutest thing. So tiny. I could hold her in the palm of my hand. I used to sit in the lobby by the fireplace and study with Aphrodite exploring the sleeves of my sweater. We weren't allowed to have pets in the dorm, but I managed to hide her for awhile.

I must have had her a week or two when quite mysteriously, Aphrodite decided to grow testicles. I switched its name to Hermaphrodite just for fun.

Hermaphrodite often accompanied me about my day. I remember one time in an honors class it was my turn to recite a poem, and just before I began the first line, he took the opportunity to pee all over my leg. Everyone's eyes were on me. I was mortified. Nobody seemed to notice, but I barely made it through the poem! Toting around a pet rat... could there be a more ideal way of accessorizing my insanely short hair and baggy clothes? No wonder I didn't date much in college.

It wasn't long before Hermaphrodite started getting... bigger. I only had a small cage for him. He'd wallow around all day in, well, you know... and I soon became wary of holding him. I remember I'd bathe him in the sink, which he hated! I felt so bad about this.

I don't know if my roommate simply couldn’t take it anymore, or if the dean accidentally discovered him... either way, one day the hall monitor informed me that Hermaphrodite had to go. I didn’t know what to do with the little guy. I had no car to drive him anywhere safe (a rodent sanctuary perhaps?), nor did I know anyone who wanted a pet rat.

My dormitory was way up on the hill, nestled in the forest. I took Hermaphrodite in my arms and trudged out into the wilderness. I sat down in a field and released him into the great wide open. He sniffed the air, his little whiskers twitching. He took a step or two. I'd like to think there was a moment in which he turned around and gave me one last longing look. I waved goodbye and watched as he waddled away, across the dirt and under a nearby bush.

There were tears.

I'd like to say I cried because I was sad to say goodbye. In reality, the great amount of relief I felt at not carrying around such a burden anymore made me realize how pathetic I was. Here I had taken on the responsibility of a pet, and I had failed miserably.

Every so often I ponder the fate of poor Hermaphrodite. I remember going back the next day to look for him. He wasn't there. Did he starve to death or freeze in the cold? Was he snatched by a hawk? Snake food? Owl pellet? Perhaps he lived a long happy adventurous life in the woods, subsisting on wild berries and early morning dew.

Only God knows.

Love,
Taintedsky