At first I was astonished, then outraged. "A rat? Perhaps in the alleys you have frequented they had rats, but this is a very clean household."

"That has nothing to do with it. The fact is, if a rat can get in, he will get in. And they eat everything. They prefer food, but they'll chew up paper, insulation, cloth, even plastic. Destructive little rodents with absolutely no respect for anything. Mice are kind of humble, but rats are arrogant."

"How do you know all this?"

"How do you think I supplemented my diet in the park?"

My stomach felt queasy. I had been know to investigate an occasional road kill myself, but the idea of killing and eating one of those...things was repulsive. "So that's why my food has been disappearing, " I mused.

"Yes. Your dish is closest to the hole, but he's going to get bold enough to start exploring pretty soon. He'll eat out of my dish, then he'll go for the kitchen. Lots of good smells in there to attract him."

"Oh, that can't be allowed! A rat in the kitchen? It's unthinkable."

"I agree. But I'll stop him before it gets that far."

"No need to bother. Now that I know what it is, I can take care of it."

Simon looked skeptical. "You do know what a rat is, don't you?"

"Of course I do. I've seen them before." Well, one of them, anyway. Jake's friend Bart had brought over his pet rat a couple of times. Igor was a sleek, white beast with pink paws, ears, and long, naked tail. His little beebee eyes were bright red. He usually rode on Bart's shoulder, but every time he saw me, he ran down Bart's collar to hide under his shirt. It wouldn't be a problem. All I had to do was catch the intruder when he was on one of his raids, and give him a good thrashing.

"All right. You're senior here, I guess. Just let me know if you need any help."

Utter nonsense, of course. As if I'd need help from him to defend my family and territory. That night I ignored Jacob's summons to bed, crouching on the cold linoleum by the pet door. Jacob seemed puzzled, and rather hurt. I'd have to make it up to him later. A good face washing should do the trick. Besides, I often found tasty crumbs and smears that way.

All night I squatted by the flap, unsleeping and alert. Well, unsleeping. All right, so I dozed a little. But I'm a very light sleeper. There isn't a marching band in the world that could get by me.

I awakened when Simon stepped over me on his way to the litter box the next morning. As I sat up groggily, he poked his head back through the flap and said, "Arise, oh great protector. Your thief in the night has been here again."

I groaned and tried to stretch out my cramped and aching muscles while Simon concluded his errand. I wasn't about to enter till he was done with his excavation. Then I entered and sadly surveyed my empty dish. I noticed some damage around the rim. The dastardly thing had been chewing on my bowl! Destructive, just like Simon had said. It couldn't be because it tasted good. I knew better from personal experience. A dish just like this one had tasted awful, but been very soothing for teething.

There was no chance of napping that afternoon. It was my day as a therapist at the local nursing home. Once a month Dad took me to visit the old folks. I fetched, danced, and begged for the little scraps they saved me from their lunch. I quite enjoyed my volunteer work. They were always so appreciative.

This time, Simon came along. Oh, the fuss they made over that feline. He strolled through the patients, rubbing against legs and arching his back to be petted. He purred constantly, till I thought his throat must be raw. I couldn't see why it amused the residents so to watch him bat around a ball of crumpled paper. He wouldn’t even bring it back to them to have it re-thrown. And he made an absolute fool of himself over someone's shoelaces. It was embarrassing.

I wore myself out fetching, begging, and rolling over. Of course, amusing the dears is its own reward, but you might have thought they'd give me something more than half a cheese cracker. I know for a fact that Simon got donut crumbs. Chocolate donut crumbs. Well, I suppose people are going to be drawn to a novelty, but I was certain that next month they'd have come to their senses and realized that a tried and true trooper was the best place to invest any snacks.

I was tired when we returned home, and headed straight for the laundry room, anticipating a refreshing drink. As I approached the pet door, I heard something. I paused, and perked my ears up. Yes, I can SO perk my ears. Not much, granted, as wiener dogs were designed with the more elegant drooping flaps instead of those ridiculous stand-up points, but it can be done, and I did it.

There was a very faint scratching sound coming from behind the flap.

"Rat!" I screamed, and charged the door.

The split second I yelled, the scratching turned into frantic scrabbling. I burst through the flap just in time to see the tip of a hideously naked pink tail disappearing behind the washer. I was in hot pursuit, and I plunged after the fleeing miscreant.

I... uh... I got stuck.

And it was not, as Jessie later claimed, because of my chubby butt. I happen to have very wide shoulders, and a broad chest. I squeezed those through the gap in my excitement to try to capture the thief, before realizing that he had slipped out the hole, and was beyond my reach.

Disappointed, I tried to back out, and that was when I realized that the gap had somehow shrunk. Yes, it had. Either that, or that sneaky washer had sidled closer to the wall when I wasn't looking. In any case, I couldn't force myself back out.

I tried going in, hoping to turn around, but the space was too shallow: the water pipe was in the way. I tried standing on my hind legs. Don't ask me why: it seemed like a good idea at the time. That didn't work either.

"Going somewhere?"

I craned my head and managed to look back over my shoulder. Simon was standing behind me, peering into the gap with evident interest.

"The rat was here. I almost had him."

"You almost had him. Mhm. And what are you doing now?"

"I'm... surveying the scene of the break-in."

"Any clues?"

I looked, and sniffed. "Well, he has terrible body odor."

"They usually do. Not much on bathing, those ratties."

"And..." I squinted, looking at a tiny tuft of hair caught on a splinter at the edge of the hole. "He's brown."

"Probably a Norway rat. You sound surprised, Miss Inga."

"Aren't rats supposed to be white?"

"Now, that's silly. How could they blend into shadows and hide in brush if they were white? What are you thinking of?"

"I thought they were white, with little red, beady eyes."

"Well, the beady part is right, and I suppose the eyes flash red when you shine light in them suddenly, but white? Are you sure you know what a rat is?"

"Yes, I've told you. I've seen them." Pause. "Well, one."

Simon settled himself comfortably behind me and began to lecture. "The Norway rat, or rattus norvegicus. This rodent is usually twelve to eighteen inches, including the tail. He is stocky, his ears are small and hairy, and his tail is shorter than his body length. He is larger and heavier than the common roof rat, with smaller eyes and a blunter snout. He prefers high protein foods such as meat, fish, grain, nuts, and pet foods. They have large, very strong chisel like teeth, and have been known to gnaw through wooden boards to get to food, and even bite holes in lead pipes. Their droppings are large and ovoid."

"Where on earth did you learn all that?"

"Mostly from observation, but a biology class was doing a field trip in the park once, and I tagged along. Did that description help you get a clearer picture?"

"Too clear. That nugget of information about the droppings was really more than I needed to know." One thing, the description of those teeth made me want rather badly to get out of the narrow space I found myself in. I tried backing up again. No good.

"Miss Inga, are you stuck?"

"No, I am not. I'm simply taking my time."

"It's all right if you are, you know. I got stuck up a tree once myself. I'd still be there if the branch hadn't broken."

"I am not stuck!"

"I'll go get help."

"No! Wait!" I heard the pet flap. "Drat!" I didn't want my people to see me in such an embarrassing situation, so I tried to get out again. I just got wedged in tighter. It was starting to get hard to breathe.

I heard footsteps approaching in the kitchen, and Simon talking. "You'd better hurry! She's stuck pretty tight, and it's awful stuffy back there. If she starts to sneeze, she won't be able to breathe properly..."

Why did he have to say that? *kerchew!*

I heard Jacob. "Geez, all right, all right, Simon. You don't have to talk my ear off, I'll check the food and water. Gah, you aren't usually so pushy."

Oh, no! Not Jacob, anybody but Jacob. Well, Jacob or Dad. They would both tease me unmercifully. I began to get frantic, tugging and twisting. I didn't realize until the door opened that I was whining and whimpering, too. By then it was too late to stop.

"What the heck? Inga?"

"Jacob, this isn't how it seems! The washing machine moved, I tell you! This space was larger when I went in and it shrunk, and I was trapped, and I'm perfectly capable of getting out on my own, but if you really want to help..."

"Calm down, girl. I'll get you out." He grabbed hold of the washer and heaved, leaning back with a loud grunt. The pressure on my sides eased a little, then came back as he let go. I howled. "Wow, you're in there tight. Hang on, one more try. If I can't manage it, I'll go get Dad."

"No! Not Dad, not both of you!"

"Oh, wow! Inga, it's all right!" He heaved again. The washer moved a little farther this time, and I desperately jerked back. It was so tight that I think I may have lost a few hairs, and I know I was bruised, but I slithered out.

Just in time, as the washer thumped back when Jacob let go. He was panting and sweaty. "Whoo! Good thing I've been doing chin-ups, or I wouldn't have been strong enough to do that." He bent down and petted me. "Are you hurt, girl?" He felt along my ribs. "Didn't break anything, did you?"

I told him I was fine, just a little shaken up by the washer attacking me in such an unprovoked manner. I tried to tell him about the rat, but he just chuckled and said, "Boy, wait till I tell Dad about this. Inga, stuck behind the washer." He tweaked my ear. "Ol' Chubby Butt."

"My butt is not chubby!" He had left the room. "I'm just... big boned."

Simon came over and started sniffing me. "You sure you're all right?"

"Oh, go away!" I snapped.

He sat back, giving me a wide-eyed look. "Well, I like that. I bring you help, and you snarl at me."

"I didn't need help. I would have gotten out myself."

He snorted. "Yeah. Maybe in a week, when you'd lost some weight."

"Oh, don't you start. Why wouldn't he listen to me about the rat?"

Simon shrugged. "Sometimes they can seem to understand exactly what you're saying. It's uncanny. But other times..." He rolled his eyes. "I, personally, think some of it is deliberate. They just want to pretend they don't know that you want some of their food."

"If you'll excuse me, I need a drink." I went to my water dish. But as I started to lap at the cool, delicious water, I noticed a puddle on the floor. I glared pointedly at Simon's litter box, and sniffed the liquid, but it was just water. "Simon, did you spill the water dish?"

"Nope. If I had, I would have licked it up."

"Did Jacob spill it?"

"He wasn't anywhere near it. No, that puddle was there when I came in."

"Then that can only mean that the rat spilled it." I jerked back in horror. "He's been drinking out of my dish. I almost drank after him! Rat spit!" I scooted away from the dish, shuddering in revulsion.

"Oh, come on, Inga. We all have to eat a peck of dirt before we die. If you'd had to drink out of mossy birdbaths and gutters like I have, you wouldn't be so squeamish."

"Well, I haven't had to do that. They'll put down fresh in a few hours. I'll just wait till then." Actually, I got a little water sooner than that. Jessie had a nice, cold glass of soda, and she put it on the floor beside her as she watched television. Moisture beaded on the outside of the cold glass, and I licked that off. I got scolded for doing that while I had water in my dish, but by that time I hardly cared.

That rat was invading my territory, eating my food, leaving his fur lying about, and endangering my health by spreading his saliva in my drinking water. I was angry now, and more determined than ever to rid my home of this vermin.