Like a Squirrel on a Wire

I have nothing to blog about today. It's back-to-school time. The
air has that back-to-school smell in the mornings. A few years
ago, before I had to drive my kids to school with me every day,
I could enjoy the sights along the way. I didn't have to bend my
arm backwards to give someone a tissue, or dig in my purse for
nacho money, or try to sign some permission form at a stop sign.

This one morning I noticed movement on a telephone wire on
the road near school. I looked up and saw a little squirrel. Aww,
how cute! I thought. Gee, he sure is a little squirrel. He must
be about half-grown. He's got good balance to run along
that wire. Hey, what's with his tail--he doesn't have any fur
on it. Maybe young squirrels don't grow that bushy tail until
later.

All this happened in a couple of seconds. The road curved,
and I had to pay more attention to my driving. And in that
split second when I looked back down to the road, the horror
of it hit me. That was a rat. And while it was small for a
squirrel, it was big for a rat. This is the country. We don't
have any giant city rats. In fact, it was the first rat I had ever
seen. No, this was no cute little field mouse with the Mickey
ears. It was a rat. And it ran along the wire in the direction
of school.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, because it was
kind of creepy to watch a cute little squirrel turn into a rat.
I never saw it again, but I spread the word to my fellow
teachers that a rat was running along the telephone line toward
school. They had a good laugh at me, and asked if I needed
glasses.

Teachers. Not as compassionate as you might think.