Rory the Rat

There were many creatures living around our old house.

Some sang.Some flew.Some hopped.Some stole cat food.

And then...

There was Rory.

Nobody had actually seen him.

But everyone talked about him.

“The tomatoes are gone.”

“Rory.”

“The bird seed has disappeared.”

“Rory.”

“Who chewed through the sack of dog biscuits?”

“...Definitely Rory.”

I wasn’t so sure.

How could one little rat possibly do all that?

Then, one evening, just as the setting sun turned everything golden, I noticed something moving beneath the old olive barrel.

Tiny whiskers.

Bright eyes.

A little grey nose.

And then...

A very confident voice.

“Good evening.”

I blinked.

“You can talk?”

“So can you.”

“That’s true.”

The little rat climbed onto a stone and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his fur.

“My name...”

He puffed out his tiny chest.

“...is Rory.”

It was an awfully grand name for such a small fellow.

“I’m BoBo.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Everyone knows BoBo.”

I looked around.

“They do?”

“You’re the dog who became friends with a rabbit.”

“Oh...”

“And the one who talks to storks.”

“Well...”

“And apparently even likes seagulls.”

“I wouldn’t say likes...”

Rory smiled.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you.”

My tail started wagging.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you too!”

Just then, I heard paws behind me.

Marie and Olivia.

Their noses twitched.

Their eyes grew wide.

“BOBO!”

Marie barked.

“That’s Rory!”

“I know!”

“He’s a rat!”

“I noticed.”

“He steals everything!”

Rory looked offended.

“I do not steal everything.”

Olivia folded her paws.

“Oh, really?”

Rory nodded solemnly.

“I leave the onions.”

I couldn’t help laughing.

Marie could not.

“BoBo, don’t listen to him.”

“I’m not listening.”

“What?”

“I’m looking.”

Marie frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means...”

I looked at Rory.

“...I’d rather meet someone before deciding who they are.”

Rory gave the smallest little bow.

“An admirable philosophy.”

“So...”

I asked.

“...do you really steal tomatoes?”

“I borrow them.”

“You eat them.”

“I never said I was bringing them back.”

Marie groaned.

“See?”

“But...”

I tilted my head.

“...why?”

Rory’s smile faded.

He looked towards the old stone wall at the edge of the field.

“My family lives there.”

I followed his gaze.

“I have seven little ones.”

“Seven?”

“They eat...”

He sighed.

“...all the time.”

I imagined seven tiny rats asking for dinner every five minutes.

That did sound exhausting.

“I don’t like taking things,” Rory said quietly.

His whiskers twitched.

“But hungry babies don’t understand promises.”

For a while, none of us said anything.

Not even Marie.

Not even Olivia.

Finally, Olivia asked softly,

“Why didn’t you just tell us?”

Rory gave a little laugh.

Would you have believed a rat?”

Nobody answered.

Because...

He had a point.

The sun was almost gone now.

Long shadows stretched across the garden.

Rory climbed down from the stone.

“I should go.”

“Will we see you again?” I asked.

“Oh...”

He smiled.

“...almost certainly.”

“But perhaps...”

He looked at Marie.

“...I’ll leave your tomatoes alone.”

Marie crossed her paws.

“I’d appreciate that.”

“And...”

Rory added,

“...I apologise about the dog biscuits.”

“You ate all of them!”

“No.”

He looked genuinely embarrassed.

“The hedgehog helped.”

I burst out laughing.

Even Olivia giggled.

Marie tried very hard not to.

She almost succeeded.

Rory disappeared beneath the old olive barrel.

I watched the place where he had gone and thought about something.

Sometimes...

Someone can make the wrong choice...

for the right reason.

That doesn’t make the choice right.

But it can make the person easier to understand.

Paws for now...

BoBo 🐾