Is That a Rat?

Summer 2025 came to its 80 degree sunny end on September 22 at 1:19 pm. The autumnal equinox. About that time, the gardener at a building near Whole Foods was exchanging old for new in sidewalk planters. The red summer geraniums and green ferns were dug up, tossed out and replaced with lavender chrysanthemums and those curious purple cabbages. A potted plant gardener myself, I was glued to the gardener’s performance as I walked slowly by with Elsa. Two robust rats promptly jumped out of a planter onto the sidewalk so close I think they grazed my shoes (ew!) before scurrying off. Elsa’s rat-catcher terrier pedigree neglected to alert us. She was unfazed, didn’t flinch. Me? I screamed bloody murder. The gardener laughed. I suppose gardeners meet rats in the city all the time.

Later in the day, on our evening walk, I almost stepped on a DEAD RAT in the park, throwing terror into my dog-walking daydream.  

Dear god, what is going on?  A rat epidemic? Do rats still carry the plague? Rabies? Do we have vaccines for them? Trump would say don’t get those shots. Drink bleach. Take Intermectin. Isn’t that for parasites in pigs?

Oh, not again. Can’t I have just a few peaceful moments at the end of summer without that guy slamming into my thinking? 

Back in a voluntary meditative state to help ward off evil thoughts, I sat on a bench keeping vigil over the DEAD RAT to warn other dog owners. 

“Hey, yoo-hoo!” I shouted.

“Yes?”

“Watch out for the DEAD RAT over there by the hydrangeas!”

Ralph the dog was off his leash and just about ready to get a noseful of DEAD RAT. Ralph is a frisky German Shepherd with his senses still in tact. He smells a DEAD RAT a mile away. His grateful owner waved at me as he hurried over to pull Ralph away from the DEAD RAT.

Elsa, still unfazed, never uses her senses. She pretends her sniffer doesn’t work so she doesn’t have to chase squirrels. Her ears perk up when her name is mentioned but no other sound seems to register. And her eyes? Who knows what comes through those cloudy old pupils. Since she’ll eat anything, it’s dubious whether or not she still has a sense of taste. She had no sense of the nearby DEAD RAT.

But spatial awareness? Elsa has that in spades. She always knows where her little white body is in relationship to me. She is by my side, unleashed, whether we’re walking along a garden path or in wide open spaces.

In other words, she’s the perfect dog. 

As long as she doesn’t cozy up to a DEAD RAT.