One of the joys of living in the inner-city is the “wildlife”.
But around here, “wildlife” usually refers to the humans who sport interesting hairstyles, piercings, clothing or pets on their shoulders — the guy who walks around here with a snake on his shoulders WINS every. single. time.
There are lots of cockroaches, of course, and if you’re lucky — rats. But thankfully, my interactions with rats had been limited to one night early last year.
Until two days ago when I was confronted by a dead rat out the back of our place. He looked not unlike this:
which, to be fair, is not a real rat (no, really!). But this crocheted specimen is decidedly more animated than my new neighbour… who I’ve named Rattus.
Anyone else remember The Ferals???
Anyway, Rattus is very much dead, but looks like he’s having a bit of a lie down on his way back to the drainpipe he calls home. No one has run him over yet, and someone’s even set up a couple of bricks near Rattus, assumingly to stop him getting run over (squashed rat would be harder to deal with, surely?).
By Saturday night I was
peer pressuring laying bets on someone (who shall remain nameless to maintain their dignity) not having the guts to put a 10c coin on Rattus’ head. Just to see what would happen!
And clearly I have friends who can’t resist a challenge, and by Sunday afternoon, Rattus had a 10c coin sitting on his noggin’:
And then we all placed bets on how long the coin would last. And the answer?
The 10c coin was still there last night, but by the time I left for work this morning, Rattus was broke.
Now, who would be so desperate for money that they’re willing to pinch it from a dead rat’s head???
I’m hoping that the coinage was pocketed by someone who was dared to pick it up… and they deserve WAY more than 10c for the act of bravery/stupidity.
Poor dead (AND broke!) Rattus!