I’ve been thinking about this most of the day, carrying it around with me. It’s hot as hell here, nearly. The kids wanted to swim and I wanted some shade over the pool steps for them, so went searching for the umbrella base I knew was in the storage building out back. I couldn’t find it, but spotted a Christmas tree stand and was reaching in for that, hoping not to disturb any sleeping Widows. I could feel my flip-flops starting to slide---time to put those away---they melt on pavement in summer. Just as my fingertips touched the plastic stand, I caught that unmistakable sickly-sweet smell. Dead Rat.
OK. Right. I’m not a believer in fate, or serendipity, but here she was, a dark reminder for me to be sure I ‘m sure about what I think about rats. I couldn’t tell how she died. Her eyes were gone and the heat and ants were quickly clearing the scene. But I hoped it was better than the rat in the trap. I hoped it was quick. I took a good, long look at her paws.
So like us, rats.
Here was me not writing about rats. Later, I'll try not writing about something else.
G'night
No comments:
Post a Comment