Diary of a Cage Fighter (Journalist) In Training

One of my New Year’s resolutions for 2009 was to blog more frequently. “How successful have you been in this endeavor?”, the intrepid reader undoubtedly ponders. Thank you for asking, imaginary audience I used merely as a transitional device. It’s now October and this will be my third post. One more and I ascend from “pulse-possessor,” to the rank of “neophyte.” I’m pretty excited. The original subject for this post, before I was interrupted by that inquisitive fan, was that my roommate wants to have a pet rat in our apartment. This is an idea to which I am diametrically opposed. If you are questioning why I might object to this request, kindly show yourself to the lovely padded room behind you and close the door tightly. Seriously, am I the one who must justify his logic? If so, I’m happy to oblige. My reasons are manifold.

1.) The Bubonic Plague.
-With the notable exceptions of scurvy and witches, the Black Death is among my biggest fears. I likes my lymph nodes nice and slender. Therefore, I am ever vigilant to be sure that the perpetrator of said continent-wide epidemic doesn’t come strolling through my door. Would a Bigger, Older Red Riding Hood ever adopt a pet wolf? No, and the principle here is the same. “But, Jim!” you protest, “It’s been over six centuries!” No amount of time is enough. Each animal only gets one catastrophic disease that kills an estimated 100 million people before I categorically refuse to accept it as a domesticated pet. Rats have cashed in their epidemic collateral. Humans now have the opportunity to exact their revenge for the rest of time. I’m sorry, rats. Your ship has sailed. (Historical wordplay!)

2.) My short list of acceptable pets.
-Call me old-fashioned, but the animals which I consider ideal pets are also a possible tic-tac-toe outcome between skilled competitors: cats and dogs. Animals that spend most of their days in cages, tanks or American Gladiator-esque transportation modules? Not for me. Have a flu named after you? Not domesticated enough. Would a stereotypical female character from a 1950’s cartoon leap onto a chair when the alleged pet entered a room? Sorry, not a pet in my book.

3.) Hygiene.
-Rats are renowned for their ability to thrive in unsanitary conditions, a fact my roommate seems to have embraced fully. The Odd Couple symbiosis that currently exists in the apartment ecosystem would be jeopardized by the introduction of a rodent. Right now, I’m reluctantly functioning as an overwhelmed Oscar (wait, he lived in a garbage can. The other one must have been the neat freak…Bert, or Ernie. I never really watched the show, truthfully). I can’t imagine a rat would assist in balancing the cleanliness ratio, despite what I’ve been shown in propaganda films like Walt Disney’s Snow White. The attempts by Mickey Mouse’s creator to advance a pro-rat agenda are disgustingly blatant. Actually, upon further reflection, my roommate enjoys cheese and maintains a level of sanitation equivalent to 14th century Italian standards, which brings me to my final concern…

4.) My roommate is either a rat himself or has been brainwashed by the rat overlord.
-My vitamin C intake is fine. This is now my most paralyzing fear. With every bite of food he gnaws, the evidence becomes increasingly damning. Then again, he has admitted to dining at Taco Bell, which would make him a cannibal.

Well, this post probably hasn’t provided a resolution to this difference of opinion, but I hope it has introduced some levity to the situation. If conditions deteriorate any further, the Zagat Rodentia will give this place a five star review. Only then will the rat overlord reveal himself and challenge me to a battle for control of the planet. I only hope my strait-jacket doesn’t inhibit my pugilistic performance.

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