My Best Friend is a Rat

Animals are my Achilles heel.

I love them but I’m allergic.

That was until I found my best friend.

I first learned about him in 2007. He was shy, always scurrying off, but over time he’s really started to open up and he’s changed my life.

Meet Jeremy

He’s my best friend.

I tell him everything. I know he’s good at keeping secrets because I haven’t been arrested yet. Besides, who would he tell? His rat friends? Yeah, right.

Jeremy is a slender rat with buck teeth and a glossy coat he preens daily.

Unlike normal rats, Jeremy possess the ability to imitate human behaviour, he’s getting good at lying to himself in the mirror daily, fake smiling, and walking on two feet.

The most important thing to note about Jeremy is that he’s a rescue pet. He comes from a large litter with even larger siblings; the poor guy didn’t really stand a chance. It was only a matter of time until he was eaten.

I intervened, of course.

Lights, camera, action

Jeremy knows when I’m watching, and he performs. I have a theory it’s learned behaviour from his siblings when he had to entertain them for food. They’re well-choreographed numbers as well, he should be proud.

I have even attempted to give him friends. You know, other mammals of the order Rodentia. That includes mice, guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils, etc. Unfortunately, they all leave without a trace. I think he’s grown comfortable with it just being the two of us—at this point, I fear getting into a relationship.

Jeremy has a bit of a mean streak. At first, he was grateful for my rat rendition of the 1990 classic ‘The Rescuers Down Under’, but since settling in, he’s become a bit more demanding. It goes to the extent where he’ll bite and scratch until he gets what he wants.

I know he’s clean, but it doesn’t stop me getting rat-bite fever symptoms.

On the whole, he’s quite nice. I give him a lot of freedom and space to explore his creative side, I buy all his prints, I don’t have the heart to tell him the art gallery declined him again.

Cut the cameras

I don’t know much about Jeremy once the lights are out and I’m asleep.

A couple of times, I’ve woke to knife-wielding shadows played out across the bedroom wall, and I’ve heard the scratchy patter on my hardwood, but that could all be a side effect of the rat-bite fever.

I know he can leave his cage, but every morning without fail, he’s in his burrow sleeping. He can escape if he pleases.

So, what does Jeremy do once those lights are out?

I have a few theories.

Jeremy is a fashion designer. It makes the most sense. He chews holes in t-shirts and sweaters, takes it all back to his nest, and then uses those tiny hands to stitch them together. I suppose I can’t be too shocked; I wear clothes daily and he’s basically roaming the house naked.

Jeremy is Gordon Ramsay’s apprentice. He gets angry when he’s served pet food, he’s flipped his bowl a number of times now. Not only that, but I’ve found ingredients for Gordon’s famous beef wellington in my Amazon shopping basket—of which I didn't do!

And finally, this is my strongest belief.

Jeremy is an internationally acclaimed actor. It all makes sense. It all adds up. The way he acts when he’s being watched, the actions he takes when I’m not watching. He must have somewhere to be with all the clothes he’s making, and perhaps the secret family he’s been feeding.

Let me know if you’ve seen my friend in any feature films, I’d like to start charging him rent.

I’ve been Alfredo Linguini.

And this has been my friend Jeremy (Remy).