I quickly tried to explain the reasons to him: that they carry germs of diseases such as leptospirosis and bubonic plague, that I used to find rats littering my previous ground floor flat, that they smelled etc. But his piteous cry; “But Calico is clean ammamma!” made me change my mind and I allowed the little creature to nestle in my lap.
He was, indeed, clean and sweet smelling. His grey fur was stippled with brown and orange highlights and was velvet to the touch. His eyes were clear and intelligent. I fell, reluctantly, in love with him.

His cage was large and airy, with a little hammock for him to sleep in, plenty of water  which came to him if he pushed and sucked at the tube connected to the  small tank, and pellets of food at the bottom of the lined floor of the  cage.

Unfortunately even the English language does not do much for rats. They have been depicted as traitors and sneaks (don’t rat on me), cowards (rats leaving a sinking ship).  And they are associated with dirt and disorganisation- hair in a rat’s tail, like a rat’s nest, ratty clothes. Small wonder that I was not prepared to like Calico.

Small coincidence that the next day’s newspaper carried an article about rats. That they are self aware, that they laugh when tickled, that the nape of their neck is sensitive, that they are sociable, curious and intelligent. That they have distinct personalities, that they “know what good sex is” (!) and behave “appropriately” when in the presence of another rodent who may arouse their anticipation of a good time in the hay!

Again, by a quirk of fate, the movie Ratatouille was playing in the city, with a review detailing the adventures of a rat, Remy, who was a gourmet and loves to cook.

I remember also the lovable rodent (the distinction between mouse and rat is too fine for me to use) at the feet of Lord Ganesha, everyone’s favourite god. Thus because of a ten-year-old’s fascination for his pet, I came to learn a lesson about all god’s creatures.