Susanna J. Sturgis: Writer • Editor • Martha's Vineyard

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Rat

July 22, 2008

Trav and I had a busy day. First we hit the laundromat. While the washing machines did their thing, we walked up the road to Animal Health Care Associates, where our friend Lisa works. Lisa last saw Trav a month ago. He's grown. A lot. I can't help noticing that he's now bigger than quite a few full-grown dogs, even some fairly good-size full-grown dogs.

Among these are the two Springer spaniels we occasionally look in on when their owner is away. The Springers come with a third, and much smaller, dog -- Travvy's friend Pip -- and one, sometimes two, ponies. About half past noon we pulled in the driveway. I let the dogs out and corralled most of them into the very large fenced yard; Jim, the old guy, wasn't interested, but he doesn't stray so I let him wander. When we were there about a month ago, Travvy was catching up with the younger, smaller Springer, Jake. Now Jake is clearly smaller, though not younger, and Trav is as tall as Jim, though not as wide.

Both ponies were in residence. I gave them lunch hay and picked their paddock, paying special attention to the gate. Helga, the Fjord, can undo a kiwi latch in about 30 seconds, no exaggeration. Kiwi latches take some dexterity to open even if you've got fingers and an opposable thumb. Helga just uses her teeth. Here's what a kiwi looks like:

See the ear-shaped piece in the middle? It fits over whatever you're locking to, and the little ring holds it in place. That's what Helga manages to undo with her teeth. So we use a snap to attach the ring to the ear-shaped piece.

One of the two water troughs -- a green muck bucket -- looked nearly full but I went to check it anyway. Surprise! A rat was swimming in it, or maybe just treading water. The diameter of the bucket was only slightly longer than the rat, so it wasn't doing laps. What to do? I considered the desirability and feasibility of killing the rat but quickly decided against it: what rat-killing implements there were in the vicinity (pitchforks, broom, a hammer) would have put me at serious risk of being bit, for which I certainly couldn't blame the rat if I were trying to kill it, and I'm no good at killing anything bigger than a mosquito.

So I overturned the muck bucket and the rat washed out with the water. It was too water-logged to move at first but it quickly righted itself, looked around, and skedaddled off in the direction of the pasture. Neither fence nor gate nor kiwi latch impeded the rat, but the water trough almost did it in.

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