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Or so it was said to me that Friday, April 5, when Jason, A co-worker at the
Coalition, phoned and suggested an evening at San Francisco's Civic Center
Park. I knew before he finished the sentence he was referring to RATS! The
word not yet spoken, I said, "what time?! How many?! Where in the park?!" He
replied hundreds all over and around the dumpsters running over his
shoes--some almost two feet long. Uh huh? Sure, I said. They're Norwegian, he
said.
Before I hung up the phone I knew I had to pay a visit to these two foot
terrors. Christi picked up the cat food, canned gravy, and loaves of bread. It
was Sam's second birthday and what better way to celebrate than have a party
in his name and invite hundreds to a meal they didn't have to scavenge for.
We threw in the gravy in memory of the recently departed "Socks". Just
imagine their joy over a seemingly unlimited food supply!
We arrived at 10:45 p.m.. The park is an entire city block directly in front
of City Hall (now under extensive earthquake renovation), in the center a
block long fountain pond lined with international flags on poles and four
mini blocks bordered with benches and trees, a playground in one quadrant.
Also present, many homeless folks unable to find shelter - not uncommon for
San Francisco. We looked and saw nothing around the dumpsters, momentarily
thinking we had been had. Then it happened...
"There goes one, Chris", I said - "look, look!" We saw the black silhouette
of a slim rat leaping across a small meadow between the mini blocks into some
shrubs. Yes, they are here - at least one. I suggested we recheck the dumpster
area. By now, our eyes had grown accustomed to the warm glow of orange-pink
sodium lighting basking the park and perimeter streets. We walked down a path in
the quadrant with the playground and as we passed a shrub lined area, voila!
About 20 sleek leaping rats like a mini herd fleeing certain doom flew before
us. Reality - they are here by the hundreds. If only we could save a young
male and female, the thought of a fresh gene pool. Who knows, maybe the end of
mycoplasma. Hell, maybe even a five year life span! Then I came back to
earth.
Chris threw out some bred - squeak, from behind our bench one said, you
forgot me. Squeak, here I am! At times, you could see the brown fur with the
shimmer of oil reflecting the glow of the sodium lights. Slender faces with
pointed noses, very similar to ours before we fatten them up. Whole pieces of
Wonder bread dancing across the playground, hopefully to a safe den. I'm sure
the homeless folks thought we were nuts. We ARE nuts - about rats!
Chris and I emptied the food in a shrub patch and set out a lasagna dinner.
Within minutes, the pan was lined corner to corner with a dozen or more
hungry fur faces, munching away. Zip - another slice of bread disappears into
a bush, along with the cut open bag of kitty kibble and gravy. Our mission
complete, we felt joy and sadness. Joy for letting these scorned animals
experience the comfort of a full belly and sadness for knowing they will
inevitably experience the wrath of humankind. But...you do what you have to
do for your kindred. Not the TV show of the same name, but the kindred we (my
wife and I) are so drawn to - rats, of course, those kindred!
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