by Jackie Deal
“It’s a rat! A rat!” The kid’s voices shrieked shrilly as they chased the wretched little rodent. It was during the Christmas Light Parade on Central Avenue; a stretch of solid buildings: no alley, no crack, not even a hole.
At one end of the block a tiny black terrier yapped himself into hysterics trying to wretch loose from his leash. And at the other end a large Siberian Husky growled with regal malice at the terrified four- inch rat. It ran from one end of the block to the other. Panicked. Scared. The minutes of its life ticking away.
A pink-clad woman stomped her feet and screamed at the rat and it cowered from her only to confront the snarling dog just feet away. It paused and you could see its tiny brain evaluating: an angry human or a growling dog; which is worse? It quivered, hunched upright, hesitating. It was Christmas and there was no mercy for a little rat.
Now I know, rats are loathsome, disease-bearing, filthy rodents. But he was so tiny and so scared and so vulnerable. Where in this land of milk and honey was there kindness or mercy for the meekest, the mildest of all Creation? Suddenly the rat darted across the street and disappeared.
The light parade began.
Oh no. Poor Baby.