Truth About Rats and Dogs

by Jacqueline Pearce

  “But do they get exercise every day?” Mercedes asked.

  “Yeah, I make sure they have some time to run aroundwhen it’s safe,” Erika said.

  “What about your hamster?” I asked Mercedes.

  “You mean Missy?” she corrected. She waved her hands dramatically. “Oh, she gets plenty of exercise, all right. She keeps me awake all night running on her squeaky wheel.”

  We were laughing as Annie ran up, out of breath.

  “You won’t believe what my rabbit did yesterday,” she said, grabbing hold of Mercedes.

  “What?” All eyes turned to her.

  “She jumped up on the couch and peed, she chewed through the cord to the TV. . .”

  Erika and Mercedes exclaimed sympathetically and laughed at the same time as Annie’s list continued.

  “But she’s cute, right?” Mercedes said.

  “Not as cute as I thought when I agreed to foster her,”

  Annie complained.

  “Don’t worry,” said Erika. “You only have two weeks to go.”

  Only two weeks. Two weeks of keeping Oscar hidden.

  Could I do it? And what about after that?

  “I’ll see you guys later,” I told them suddenly. “I’m supposed to be playing soccer.”

  I jogged away to find Jake. I wasn’t sure what kind of reception he’d give me on the soccer field, but I didn’t want to think about the end of the two weeks.

  “Which side should I go on?” I called to the boy standing between the closest goal posts.

  “Ours,” he called back. “We’re short one.”

  I ran onto the field, looking around to try to get a sense of who was on which team. The ball was heading toward me down the field with Jake running after it. I hurried to intercept, but he beat me to it. Instead of sending the ball toward the goal, he kicked it straight for my head. It came at me like a bullet, and I instinctively jumped out of the way. There was no way I was going to try heading it.

  “Watch it!” I yelled. What had he done that for?

  “Sorry. Didn’t see you,” Jake said with a sneer. “I thought you were off playing with your girlfriends.”

  Anger boiled up in me.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I demanded, giving Jake a shove. He’d obviously kicked the ball at me on purpose.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jake snapped, shoving me back.

  “Hey, are you guys playing or what?” someone called as the ball rolled by and neither Jake nor I went for it.

  We continued to glare at each other, and before either of us could decide what his next move should be, the bell rang to end recess. Without another word, Jake pushed past me, heading back to the school. For a second I stood watching him. This was stupid. We were supposed to be friends.

  Quickly, I caught up to Jake and grabbed his shoulder.

  He jerked away, scowling.

  “What are you so mad about?” I demanded.

  Jake continued walking, but I kept up with him.

  I didn’t think he was going to answer me. Then he stopped and turned to face me.

  “I thought we were best friends,” he said, his face a mask. “But you spend all your time with that stupid animal club and those girls.”

  I started to protest, but Jake continued.

  “We were supposed to take our bikes to the skateboard park on Saturday,” he said accusingly.

  Suddenly I remembered. The phone call. Jake had called me when Oscar was stuck under the dresser, and I’d forgotten to phone him back. I hadn’t even thought about Jake the whole weekend.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “I’m sorry I forgot to call you, but something came up.”

  “Yeah, sure,” he grumbled sarcastically. He started to walk away.

  I hesitated a second, then made a quick decision.

  “Wait!” I called after Jake. “Do you like rats?”

  Rat Problem

  There was an unfamiliar white truck parked in the driveway when Jake and I rode our bikes up to my house after school.

  At first, when I’d tried to tell Jake about Oscar, he hadn’t wanted to listen. But then he got interested, despite being mad at me.

  “You’re kidding? You’re hiding a rat in your room?”

  Jake had exclaimed, sounding impressed.

  When I’d invited him to come over and meet Oscar, he’d agreed right away. By the time we got to my house, our confrontation on the soccer field had been forgotten.

  We stopped to look at the truck. A dark blue logo on the door had a picture of a raccoon and the words Wildlife Control. Jake and I looked at each other. Wildlife control? What was that doing at my house? Anxiety sprouted in my chest.

  “Come on,” I said, pointing my bike toward the back of the house. My mind leapt in wild directions. Were the animal control people here for the rat in the backyard? Or were they here for Oscar?

  The back gate was open. I jumped off my bike and pushed it through, not knowing what to expect. Inside the yard I halted suddenly, and Jake’s front wheel bumped into my leg. Mom was standing by the back steps talking to an ordinary-looking man with short dark hair, jeans and a dark blue bomber jacket. There was a small design on the chest of his jacket that matched the logo on the truck door.

  “If rats are in your yard, they could be in your home as well,” the man was saying.

  I met Jake’s eyes, and I could tell he knew exactly what I was thinking. Oscar. At least it sounded like the man hadn’t been in the house yet.

  “Conner, you’re home,” Mom said, catching sight of

  Jake and me. “Hello, Jake.”

  She looked a bit embarrassed—like when unexpected guests catch her with a messy kitchen or using a cake mix.

  “This is Mr. Merchanko,” she said, gesturing toward the man. “He’s come to look at our… ah…rat problem.”

  “We’ve only seen signs of the one out here,” I said quickly.

  “Well, if you’ve only got one, you’re lucky,” the man said. “If there’s only one, we might be able to trap it. But usually where there’s one, there’s several more, and there’s no point in putting out traps. You might catch the first one, but the others will get wise pretty fast. Rats are smart. They learn quickly to avoid traps.”

  “But then what can we do?” Mom asked.

  The man took a few steps around the garbage can area, looking it over before answering.

  “Rats have a relatively small territory around their food source,” the man said. He nodded at the garbage can. “Best thing you can do is block off their food source, and they’ll look for a new one somewhere else.”

  “How do we do that?” Mom asked.

  “Make sure they can’t get into that garbage can,” he said. He pointed to the bottom of the can. “You’ve got a hole there that’s like a welcome sign to rats. I suggest you replace that can with one rats can’t chew through. And…”

  He looked around the yard, considering. I waited for what he would say next, my hands sweating.

  He pointed to the right of the garbage can.

  “I suggest you remove those bushes,” he said. “Rats don’t like open spaces, and those bushes provide perfect cover for them to get in close.”

  I decided the man knew what he was talking about.

  What he was saying about the wild rat matched perfectly with what I had discovered about Oscar.

  “Do you have any pets?” the man asked Mom. My heart jumped at the unexpectedness of the question, and I glanced at Jake, who raised an eyebrow at me.

  “No,” Mom said quickly. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering if you leave any pet food outside,” the man explained. “Any food left outside will attract rats. You want to get rid of any food source around your house. You might want to talk to your neighbors as well. Bird seed, compost, pet food left out on a porch, fruit trees where the fruit has fallen on the ground— those are all things that can attract rats and keep them coming around.”

  Mom no
dded grimly, but she looked hopeful—like the suggestions were something she could handle.

  “All right,” she said. “That sounds reasonable.”

  “Can’t you put out poison for the rats?” Jake asked.

  I gave him a sharp look. I didn’t want poison around our house. But I didn’t have to worry.

  “We don’t use poison,” the man said. “Rats can eat it and die in the walls of your house.”

  Mom made a face at that.

  “What about cats and other animals that come around?

  They could eat the poison too,” I pointed out.

  “That’s right,” the man agreed. “Sometimes other animals get caught in traps too.”

  “All right,” Mom said briskly, sounding like she’d had enough talk about rats and animals getting caught in traps and poisoned around her house. “So we’ll work on the garbage issue, clear out the shrubs and talk to the neighbors.”

  As she spoke, she began ushering Mr. Merchanko back toward the gate, seeming in a hurry to have him leave now. Jake and I set our bikes aside and started up the stairs to the house.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” Jake whispered.

  “Yeah,” I said. “No thanks to you. You sounded like you wanted the guy to put poison out.”

  Jake tilted his head to show he was considering this.

  “It would have been interesting,” he said.

  Disgusted, I gave him a shove. He pretended he was losing his balance and about to fall down the stairs. Then he steadied himself and laughed.

  “Just kidding,” he said.

  I turned my back on Jake and pushed open the kitchen door, trying not to let him see me smile. Sometimes I didn’t know what to make of Jake, but he did know how to make me laugh, even when I didn’t want to.

  In the kitchen Jake wanted to stop for a snack, but I was anxious to check on Oscar first. All the talk about getting rid of rats made me nervous.

  “Hurry,” I told Jake as I pulled him into my bedroom and closed the door behind us.

  Jake looked around the room.

  “Where is it?” he asked.

  “It is a he, and his name is Oscar,” I said, moving to the closet. I swung open the door, and Jake came up behind me.

  “Cool,” he said as he caught sight of Oscar, who sat on his hind legs and stared up at us from the middle of his cage.

  Once again I felt a wash of relief as I knelt down to open the cage and lift Oscar out. He sat in my arms and smelled me as I straightened up; then he climbed up to my shoulder and snuggled up beside my neck where he could get a good view of Jake, the stranger, and still feel safe. His tiny claws pricked through the fabric of my shirt as he held on.

  “Did you teach him to do that?” Jake asked, looking at

  Oscar with interest.

  “No, he does it on his own,” I admitted. “But I’ll show you something I did teach him.”

  I got out a handful of dried food and Jenna’s hair band, then took Oscar over to the bed. First I made a tunnel with folds of the duvet cover so Oscar would have a place to hide.

  “Watch this,” I said.

  I set Oscar down on the bed, and he ran straight for the tunnel. Jake laughed. I waited until Oscar felt comfortable enough to poke his nose out of his hiding spot (it didn’t take very long anymore), then I held out a piece of cereal with the hair band between the food and Oscar. Oscar sniffed the air for a moment, then crept out from the tunnel. He stood on his back legs, his nose twitching.

  Then he leapt through the hair band and snatched up the cereal.

  “Cool!” Jake exclaimed again.

  I set the hair band aside and let Oscar run back to his hiding spot to eat.

  “Do you think he’d do it for me?” Jake asked.

  “Maybe you should let him smell you first, so he gets used to you,” I suggested.

  I peeked into the tunnel. Oscar had finished eating, so I picked him up with both hands and held him out to Jake. For a second Jake looked uncertain, and I thought he might pull away, but then he opened his hands and I placed Oscar into them.

  Jake stared at Oscar for a moment, looking incredulous—like he couldn’t believe he was standing there holding a rat.

  “I can feel his claws,” Jake said, amazed.

  Jake shifted Oscar’s body to one hand and supported him against his chest. Then, with his other hand, he tentatively reached a finger out to pet Oscar’s head.

  “Wow, this is so weird.” Jake grinned.

  I laughed. I could hardly believe it myself. Jake was doing animal stuff with me. Jake was petting my rat.

  “I mean,” Jake continued, “it’s weird to have that guy outside trying to get rid of rats when you’ve got one right here.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, no longer laughing. Pests or pets? I was sure the rest of my family would only see it one way.

  Caught

  On Tuesday after school, Jake came over to visit Oscar again, and we managed to get in some bike practice. On Wednesday, I was surprised that Jake wanted to come with me to the animal club meeting. He even helped clean Daisy’s cage, though he joked around and made stupid comments—like pretending something was wrong with Daisy when he couldn’t find her tail. I saw the girls exchange looks more than once, as if they weren’t sure they wanted him there. Sean was at the meeting too, so there was an even number of boys and girls for a change.

  “I wish I hadn’t been sick when you went on the shelter visits,” Sean said as he dumped new shavings into Daisy’s enclosure.

  “We can go there again,” Erika said. “I think they’d like us to come every week if we can.”

  “I should be able to make it this Friday,” Sean said.

  “Are you coming too?” he asked Jake.

  Jake hesitated.

  “Maybe,” he answered.

  Surprised, I looked at Jake. He shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing the other rats,” he said.

  This started a discussion of which small animals we liked the best and which ones we thought would make the best pets. After hearing about the latest destructive exploits of Annie’s rabbit and the continued midnight squeaking of Mercedes’ athletic hamster, we all agreed that we preferred guinea pigs and rats.

  Our meeting finished shortly after four, and I rode my bike home from school in a good mood. I could hardly believe that Jake was becoming interested in the animal club.

  When I arrived home, I knew right away that something was wrong. Mom was standing in the living room window, watching for me. As soon as she caught sight of me, she moved away from the window. Dread knifed through my body.

  I pushed my bike through the gate at the side of the house and over to the back door of the garage, my hands starting to feel clammy. This was it. She’d found Oscar. What had she done with him? I tried to tell myself that she could be upset about something else. Maybe someone was sick. Maybe something had happened to Yeh Yeh or Ma Ma.

  After shutting my bike away, I started up the back steps, my legs like lead. Before I had reached the top step, the back door opened and Mom stood there, her face grim and her arms crossed over her chest. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  “It’s about time you got home,” Mom said coldly. “You have some explaining to do.”

  So it wasn’t Yeh Yeh or Ma Ma. That was good at least.

  But I didn’t like what that left. I looked down, avoiding meeting Mom’s eyes as she stepped aside to let me through the door.

  “I vacuumed in your bedroom this morning,” Mom went on. She didn’t have to say more.

  Oscar!

  Mom saw the panic that leapt into my face.

  “Don’t worry,” she said coldly, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “I didn’t touch the dirty thing. It’s in your closet where I found it.”

  She paused as if waiting for me to say something, but before I could start to explain, words burst out of Mom like rain from a storm cloud.

  “I can’t believe you would do this. A ra
t, of all things. You know how we feel about pets. And behind our backs…”

  Her arms uncrossed and she grabbed hold of my shoulders, steering me down the hall to my bedroom as she continued her tirade. She stopped at the doorway and pointed a shaking finger in the direction of my closet. “I want that rat out of this house now!”

  “Okay, okay,” I said quickly, going to the closet.

  What was I going to do? My mind whirled. I’d have to take Oscar back to the shelter. What would Mini say when she found out I’d misled her about having permission to take him? What would the others say? Would someone else take Oscar? Would I ever see him again?

  I looked down at Oscar, who stood in his cage peering up at me, expectant and trusting. I took a deep breath and turned back to Mom. I’d have to at least try to explain.

  “I didn’t mean to bring him in the house behind your back,” I said. “It just happened.”

  Mom stood in the doorway, her arms crossed again, her lips a thin angry line.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said.

  “I’m just taking care of him,” I continued. “To help the animal shelter.”

  “The animal shelter?” Mom said, a note of incredulity in her voice. “I can’t believe they would let a child have an animal without the parents’ permission.”

  “I guess they thought I had your permission,” I admitted.

  “You lied to them?” Mom’s anger flared up again.

  “No,” I said quickly. “I didn’t say I had your permission.

  I just didn’t say I didn’t.”

  “A lie by omission,” Mom pointed out sternly, though I thought I caught a twitch at one corner of her mouth.

  “And did you say you could keep this rat?” Mom asked.

  “No,” I explained. “I only said I could take care of him—Oscar—for two weeks or so.”

  “Oscar?” she asked. Was there a touch of amusement in her voice?

  “Yes, that’s his name. I could show him to you,” I added tentatively.

  This time Mom did smile—a small tight smile that did not quite make it to her eyes.