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I used to ponder the meaning of my existence. I cannot answer that question even now.
I have mapped the cupboards and drawers, and tracked the least-walked spots on the floor.
I know this place like the back of my paw.
All the secret paths, all of the cracks in the walls- memorized.
It's nice here.
To walk unnoticed by humans.
A tiny shadow by their back paws, on which they stand. It was always bizarre to me how humans stood only on their back paws. I mean, I can, and I do. But to walk only on them all the time must be tiring. Four paws are easier for running, if you'd ask me.
But nobody ever asks me.
I'm just a rat.
People watching is a guilty pleasure of mine.
I like sitting in the walls or ceiling, and simply watching them.
One day, I think, I'll have offspring of my own, if I can find someone to start a family with.
I'd teach them all of the things to survive.
But until then, I'll just dream of the day.
Imagining, I wake up, there'll be food on top of the hot box, forever, and I never want for more.
I'd think, is there cheese in the great beyond?
Rinds of Parmesan?
But until then, I just watch people. Mind me not, and I'll mind my own. I'm not harming them or anything. Only watching.
But my mind is not one bite smaller or lesser than theirs; they don't even know how to talk. Yet they come off as thinking they are so much superior to me just because I am so little. This is not true. Size does not determine my worth. If I were given a chance, surely humans would realize rats are just the same as them, really. We eat to survive, we live in groups (usually), and I'm mostly sure that they have minds capable of imagination, as well.
Even if they aren't as smart as rats, the way humans interact is interesting. They make strange gestures with their front paws, and they make the funniest noises. I can't understand them at all, obviously, but it's entertaining to watch.
Of course, after the humans make noises at bound paper with pictures on it to their offspring, they rest.
When the humans rest, I eat.
The most important part is not to get caught, not to be seen, and not to leave anything behind.
One night that I forget this is one night that I will die on.
Except I do forget this.
I remember it so clearly.
I was feasting on cheese that the humans had neglected to put away.
It was pitch dark, but I was perfectly fit for it. My eyes were perfectly fit for it. I was built for being a thief in the night, that's what I am.
Then, a light flicked on.
My eyes had not yet adjusted, but I knew what was to come.
I bolted, running for my hole in the wall.
There I would be safe. If I could make it there, I'd be safe.
I ran for cover, over and under everything that I had come across.
My heart raced, and my paws pounded the floor beneath me.
All I could think of was, "What will happen when I die?"
I think it saw my face.
I prayed to the rat gods that the human may not kill me today.
But it did not.
I lived another moment.
That is, for now.
I finally reached home.
The human couldn't hurt me here.
I was home.
Home is safe.
Home will always be safe.
Okay...one hungry day is okay, I thought.
One hungry day is nothing come what may.
But then winter came inside for three nights.
I curled up in the least cold corner of my home and fought the bitter chill around me.
And I keep my head up, because I've been through this before, what's one more?
I think, do I belong in right and wrong? That's nature, I guess.
Spring bloomed in the kitchen again.
I emerge from the wall and glance around.
A smell catches my nose.
My whiskers twitch.
Squinting, I see hope upon the stovetop.
It was more than I could eat, just how I'd always imagined.
My dreams were finally a reality, and my struggles would have a happy ending!
The humans were feeding me. What could this mean?
They must want to be friends!
Looking back, I was foolish to believe it. And foolish from the first bite.
My stomach starts to turn.
Why does it hurt?
I brush it off, just chalking it up to a simple stomach ache from eating too much. The pain only got worse, though.
It was worse until the only thing I could focus on was the sharp, stabbing ache in my stomach.
So I stumble back to bed, the pain making me dizzy.
Something doesn't feel quite right- guess I'll just go rest my head. The fool I was still believed it was from overeating, and brushed the pain off again.
As I lie down to sleep, I expect no dreams. There were no sweet goodbyes for me. And I held on so tight- for so long, it's just not right.
I let a sigh out as I closed my eyes.
I think to myself.
Was that all there was to this?
That would really suck. There isn't any meaning to this, I know, but I hoped that the meaning would come later in life. Now, there is no later in life.
Is there cheese in the great beyond? What's the moon made of?
Meet me there after I'm gone.
One dies alone, and nobody knows. Nobody will ever know. Will my mother miss me? Or father? Will my sisters and brothers miss me? Cousins? Aunts, uncles, grandparents? Will anybody miss me when I'm gone?
I love my family. That is why I left them. When I die, they cannot be allowed to see it- to know it. Goodbye, so long, to mice in homes.
My last thought being;
Nature, I guess.
There is cheese here.