Are You As Empathetic as a Rat?
What we hate says a lot about us.
I knew what I was getting into.
When we first moved into the house I live in now, I saw the telltale hole chewed by relentless teeth in the bottom of the shed door. Everywhere — almost everywhere — has rats, of course. Originating somewhere in Asia, these crafty creatures have followed us everywhere. Thanks to our garbage and the homes we create, rats have ridden our coattails to becoming one of the world’s most successful creatures.
Surrounded by farms as we are, the acid tang of manure drifting on the wind that blows through the valley, it was preordained we would have rats. But I was determined to let them be. They were here before I arrived, and they’ll still be here long after I’m gone. I’m not interested in yet another war of attrition.
I don’t know how many rats I’ve killed in my life.
Probably thousands. I used to do it for a living. If rats had an organization like Mossad, I might live in fear at every knock on the door or every strange car that rolls slowly down the street. Like Eichmann in Argentina, twitching the curtains while waiting for the blow to fall.
Given my tally, it would be hard to deny that rats would have some justification in…
