Kathy Salzberg, NCMG

The Village Groomer

Walpole, MA 02081

OH, RATS!

Political opponents spend a lot of time swapping scandalous charges and calling each other unflattering names. During the recent presidential campaign, this behavior hit a new low when a pro-Bush commercial flashed the word "RATS" across the TV screen, allegedly sending viewers a subliminal message about Al Gore´s character.

George W. called the charges "bizarre," apparently getting a chuckle out of the whole flap. It was never clear why the word popped up in the ad but it was enough to get Gore´s dander up. Nobody likes to be called a rat.

In the ratings-busting finale of the Survivor TV show, the prickly Susan called finalist Kelly a rat as she cast her vote for Rich even though she considered him a snake. I hated myself for watching that show, gagging uncontrollably when I saw those little rodents turning crispy over the campfire. I bet you didn´t go to the official website looking for that recipe either.

Suddenly, rats seem to be everywhere. In Boston, the infamous construction project known as The Big Dig has displaced them by the score. To the dismay of the tourist industry, rats can be seen scurrying down the sidewalks as they go about their business. Rats probably arrived as stowaways on The Mayflower but you´ll find no respect for their lineage here.

I´ve become aware of the rat´s poor public image because of our new pet at The Village Groomer. Its name is Nigel and it´s a rat. Nigel first appeared in the shop´s backyard, a cute blue and white youngster who approached our groomers as they were taking a break. The rat baby seemed quite tame as it sat up like a prairie dog, begging for crumbs. Our animal-loving staffers recognized it as a domestic rat, the same species as the dreaded Rattus Norvegicus but selectively bred in captivity for looks and personality. An escapee from the nearby pet store, Nigel had been a featured entrée on the menu for some big snake´s dinner.

Since we were less than adept at determining its sex, it was not immediately apparent that Nigel was a girl rat. Not that she started wearing nylons or polishing her little rat nails, but once she got bigger, we just looked a little closer, then let out a collective "Duh!" She took up residence in a glass tank in the back room, keeping a watchful eye on the groomers as she lounged in her hammock. She learned to come when called and loved to ride around on our shoulders as we went about our business.

While most of our customers found her marginally cute, some shuddered at the sight of her sitting on my shoulder as I made change. "Maybe it would help if we docked her tail," one groomer suggested, "kind of like a Jack Russell Terrier."

Nigel was a fussbudget about her quarters, compulsively washing her hands in the water dish, tirelessly shredding paper and fabric to make up her bed. Watching her stack her treats in the back corner of her den made me realize where the term "pack rat" originated. I grew to love her little chirps of excitement and the way she asked to be picked up by standing on her hind legs as her paws reached up for me.

But once the newness wore off, it became obvious that Nigel´s environment wasn´t stimulating enough. She started to let herself go, growing chubby and bored. Who knew a rat could be high-maintenance?

Because they are so intelligent, pet rats suffer if they don´t get enough attention. They need at least an hour of playtime outside their cages each day. They experience stress in new surroundings, sometimes turning aggressive or shy. Some lack social skills when meeting new people. Many rat babies (called kittens) are snatched from their mothers too early because they are more marketable when they are young and cute- sort of like teenage movie starlets cast opposite leading men old enough to be their grandfathers.

Serious fanciers suggest seeking out a good breeder when choosing a rat for a pet. When you visit the breeder´s home, it´s a good idea to meet both rat parents. Who knew there were backyard breeders in the rat subculture?

There are also active Rat Rescue organizations, dedicated folks who probably hear the same lame excuses that we do when people no longer want the pets we groom. "My kids won´t take care of it." "I´m going to have a baby." "I´ve been transferred overseas and my rat can´t get a visa."

According to a rat information sheet I downloaded from the Net, Nigel probably felt socially deprived. "Solitary rats can become clingy, introverted and neurotic. Rats kept in pairs or groups are happier and more confident." It suggested a trip to a Rat Show where one can observe plenty of extroverted members of the species enjoying the company of their ratty friends. Who knew rats loved to party?

It made me wonder if they have dating services for rats. "Vivacious Vermin, warm and attractive, seeks her male counterpart for long scurries along the beach, midnight cheese snacks …..and more?" A Significant Other for Nigel might be just what the doctor ordered - as long as he´s sterilized. According to this fact sheet, male rats are hot-blooded. They never need Viagra.

For the time being, Nigel remains single. She has moved to larger digs at my daughter´s house where she enjoys rocking to the oldies and conversing with Rosie the Cocketiel. As I write this, Missi is installing a state-of-the-art rat gym and combing the catalogs for tiny spandex workout clothes. By now Nigel may even have her own personal trainer.

Now you know why I wince when I hear the word "rat" used as the world´s nastiest insult. I guess I´m not that different from those mosquito-bitten TV Survivors. Some of my best friends are rats.