the rat that wanted to swim

The day began serenely.  The sun shining through the large windows of my room with an early morning strength that hinted at another very hot day in the tropics.

It was Saturday and my hopes for sleeping in being dashed by the bright alarm clock, I was enjoying a book at the kitchen table while eating my breakfast quietly.  The two others sharing the flat (apartment), were moving around, but no one was really talking. 

Then the lady staying in the neighbor flat on the top floor of the four-plex came to the back window of the kitchen, "Would any of you be willing to come take care of a rat?"

Four women in the building.

I'm not sure exactly how I volunteered/got volunteered.  Perhaps being the youngest doesn't always have the advantage?  But minutes later I found myself trudging down the stairs; full of dread and holding a saucepan.  

I hate rats.  Let's just be clear on that. 

The tiny creature in question, not big to start with, looked smaller yet as it was curled up in fear in the bottom of the empty washing machine.  Somehow it had fallen in and been trapped.  Simply leaning over enough to peer inside was a battle . . . flight was feeling stronger than fight at the moment.  Someone had come up with the great idea that we (meaning me) could hold the saucepan down into the machine to catch the rat and then put the lid on and take it outside.

:/

My arm was shaking as I slowly inched the pan into the machine, somehow lowering it enough to get close to the bottom.  I positioned the pan next to the rat and then looked down.  I couldn't see it anywhere.  Thinking the rat was hiding under the pan, I began to pull my arm out when someone screeched "You have it!!!!"

Flight kicked into full gear at that point.  Perhaps along with some screaming.  Who knows.  All I do know was that I ran outside with the pot and flung it down on the ground before running back inside.

The rat almost beat me back to the door.

Apparently, it didn't want to be outside with me any more than I wanted to be outside with it.  Alas, it scurried under the door to the broom closet directly across from the washing machine.  I grabbed a broom and poised to attack, but it was gone.

Never to be seen again.  At least not by me.