Am quite well-fed during the day but there is always
Some weeks ago,
I went closer, he squeaked even more. I had a choice – either pounce on him and make sure my dinner is set for the day or reverse Tom and Jerry tales and help him.
I had eaten some roast chicken for lunch so I could go easy and decided to do a good deed. But first I told the rat to shut-up and clam down. His squeaks were irritating and not even in tune.
I tried to push the door from the other side so as to free the poor
To make it worse, the rat was nowhere in sight – so much for re-writing history (read fairy tales). I lay there stationary for some 15 minutes and I heard the squeak again. The rat had come back. He looked at me, smiled and said: “Hey cat, you saved my life by almost letting go of yours. What can I do in return?”
By then I felt a little better and told him it was fine and he need not feel guilty. But the rat came close and slid his body under my aching paw. “You can rest on me till you feel better,” he said. I did feel better.
An hour later the pain had gone. We spoke and exchanged notes. I told him my name was Ginger and since no one bothered to keep him a name I named him Mr Remington (Remy for short, like in the movie Ratatouille). We spoke through the night and rummaged the corner dustbin together. He passed on the fish bones and I gave him pizza crust remains.
We’ve been friends
Earlier articles by PG Ginger