We had a pet rat once. Doesn’t everybody? Well, as often happened, A young man came calling upon my daughter. As David was a pompous young man, full of himself, I was surprised my daughter had allowed him to visit.
By contrast,Ralphie the Rat was an appealing little guy, sweet, affectionate, and well-mannered. He spent most of his time in his den, due to his unfortunate little rat trait of chewing on everything and apparent total lack of a bladder. I do believe he dribbled every step. At any rate, just before the guest arrived, Ralphie had been out playing with the Kate and the cat, crawling all over them, kissing and cuddling. Ralphie scooted between the sofa cushions when the doorbell rang.
My daughter and her friend settled on the sofa for a little visit. Ralphie gave them time to get settled before introducing himself by running up David’s leg and through the buttons of his shirt to snuggle against his bare belly, as he often did with our family. Unaware that Ralphie was an affectionate, cuddly family pet, David foolishly confused him with the usual garden-variety rat. Shrieking, he pitched his drink skyward, spotting our ceiling. Offended at his rudeness, Ralphie retreated. So did David, as we tried to explain all about Ralphie. The door didn’t hit his skinny little butt on the way out, which was fine by me.
Insulted, Ralphie was mollified by a grape before returning to the peace of his den.