I never wanted a pet. Now, I have one. Her name is Lucy and she killed a rat in my Chicago backyard last night, leaving me terrified that one day she’ll eat my face and no one will find me for months because she’ll have been the only friend I’ve had for over a decade since I’ll have long offended everyone I know leaving myself in a position to fade into dust among hoarded boxes of QVC girdles, pearl bracelets, and a vintage collection of TV Guides. You should have seen her. She darted across the yard so quickly I didn’t even notice until I heard squealing. She ran towards me wildly shaking this poor rat in her teeth and flipping it in the air. Once the rat was dead, Lucy trotted towards me beaming with pride. I didn’t know what to do, so I gave her a biscuit and threw up in my mouth.
Because I find therapy through being a loud mouth who tells the same stories over and over and over again, I told everyone who listened to me. They all replied with blank looks on their faces saying, “Yeah. My (insert kind of pet) did that. S/he killed a (insert variety of other animal).” So it seems that the general consensus from most pet owners is that even though they are domesticated, dogs and cats are still animals. Some owners were so gruesome as to consider the carcasses “gifts.”
I’m still reeling from the visual of that incident, yet I still let this monster sleep at the foot of my bed because she’s pretty dang cute but I don’t want her to ever lick my face again. If you’re interested in adopting a beast that will eat your face one day, I recommend that you call the folks at Peace for Pits, especially if you’re patient and loving. Be a hero to a rat eating dog that will love you forever.