by Melanie McCranie Mansfield
Much to my mother's displeasure, I'm not a pet person. I can handle the occasional dog . . . preferably old ones who've lost the will to move when you enter a room. Or newborn puppies that have yet to develop the ability to, you know, relieve themselves. But regardless of how many different sorts of animals that were brought into our home (and believe me, there were MANY sorts), I never laid claim to mass amounts of affection toward any of them. Least of all the rats (I mean gerbils).
My little sister, Maureen, had wanted a rat (I mean gerbil) for quite a while. Being the sweet, lovable doe-eyed child that she was, she didn't have to beg long before Mama took her to the pet store and they came home with not one, but TWO rats (I mean gerbils). Mo called out, "Hey! We got you one as well!" Umm... no. “Really, Melanie! One for you and one for me!” Seriously... no. “How can you NOT want it?!” It's a rat. “It's a GERBIL!” Your point?
Days later, Maureen had named hers Hank, and I referred to “mine” as The Other One. They were in a big glass aquarium by Mo's bed. A bathroom separated her room from mine, for which I was grateful. I didn't have to hear them running on that dadgum wheel or squeaking or munching or... or... gerbil-ing. *shivers*
Maureen could hug her rat (I mean gerbil) all day long, or put it in its clear plastic ball and play chase, but I knew I'd always be safe in MY room. My rat-less (I mean gerbil-less) room.
Mama said that “my" rat (I mean gerbil) was gonna come after me one day because I didn't love it. I was 17, I didn't care. That is, until the day it did. See, Hank was really fat and The Other One was really skinny (there's a psychological experiment screaming to be studied). Soon, The Other One learned that if he climbed on Hank's back, he could stretch to the top of the aquarium and jump out. He did this often. So often that Mo put crumpled newspaper on the floor so she could hear him when he landed. She was always able to retrieve him before he made the big break across the floor and into my rat-free (I mean gerbil-free) sanctuary.
Until one night...
No one heard a sound. I guess he had been to some sort of rat (I mean gerbil) Ninja training, 'cause he not only jumped out of the glass house, but he scurried straight to my room and climbed the grass-cloth wallpaper right up to my head... which was in bed... with the rest of me.
That's when I heard it... "MELANIEEEEE!!!" Okay, not really, but I bet that's what he would have been saying if rats (I mean gerbils) could talk. As it was, I just heard scratching sounds, which was scary enough without the aid of vowels.
I reached and turned on the light just in time to see him freeze over my head. You know, the whole "if I don't move, she won't see me" bit. But I did see him, and I yelled for my mother to save me. Now, I don't mean I called out. I don't mean I screamed. I mean I developed this guttural moaning wail that started in my toes and worked its way up until it burst out of my mouth "MAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" Deep, mournful... and loud. By my teenage years, I had perfected this sound. And just like when you hear a tornado siren, you know what it means, my mother knew exactly what it meant when her name was called out in such a distinct fashion.
Long story short, he got away. We never saw him again, although the next winter, when we unpacked our sweaters and coats, several of my things had holes in them. Coincidence? Or rat (I mean gerbil). You decide.
Melanie McCranie Mansfield, a native of Cleveland, Mississippi, has been transplanted to Kinston, North Carolina, by way of Helena, Arkansas. She is a professional photographer, wife and homeschooling mother of three (Parker, Peyton and Mabry). In her spare time she likes to... wait... she doesn't HAVE any spare time. You can visit www.melaniemansfield.com to find out more about her photography and family. Contact Melanie at Melanie@melaniemansfield.com.
And don't miss reading her poems. Click here!
__________________________
Lila’s Moment of Shame
Conspiracy Theory
The Southerner
Mamaw and the Night Visitor
__________________________
Please visit our Message Board
or write Ye Editor at bethjacks@hotmail.com.
Thanks!
Back to USADEEPSOUTH - I index pageBack to USADEEPSOUTH - II index page