Fugitive

The first sign that something was horribly wrong came when I walked into my classroom and saw one of my papers shredded into tiny bits on the floor.

The second sign that something was horribly wrong came when I noticed a small pile of rodent-like droppings in the corner by the door.

The third sign - and the one that made me KNOW what was horribly wrong, came when I suspiciously went to go check on the classroom rats. Haiku looked up at me with her big round beady eyes. It's almost as if she was saying, "What? I didn't do anything! I'm just sitting here being good! Don't be mad!" Limerick was...nowhere to be found. I frantically looked under the igloo and in every possible hiding place in the cage (which didn't take long), and I was sure that Limerick was missing.

My first thought was, "Oh crap. I am so fired. I am so very VERY fired." I could just picture myself explaining that one to my boss: "Um...so I lost a rat...it's probably running around the school somewhere..." Aaaaaaah! There's really no good way to spin that to make me sound NOT psycho.

My second thought was, "Okay, DO NOT PANIC. There are thirty minutes until the students get here...I have thirty minutes to find the rat, or it's back to my first thought: so so so very fired."

Because I know rats quite well (not sure if that's a good thing or not...but it's true), I knew that as soon as I turned on the lights in my classroom, the rat probably ran to the nearest dark corner...that is, assuming the rat was still in my room. I have had some unfortunate previous experience with escaped rats that taught me rats usually stay pretty close to the place where they escaped from, so I clung to the hope that Limerick had spent the weekend partying in my classroom and not going too far. It was really the only shot I had.

I began searching every nook and cranny of my classroom for the little rodent fugitive. I hit paydirt in the corner behind the lunch basket where kids keep their lunch boxes. I saw a little furry blob rustling in the discarded ziploc bags, and I tried to speak calmly to convince Limerick to crawl close enough for me to catch her. It was tough to speak calmly when really I wanted to scream for joy, "AH HA! PERHAPS I WILL STILL HAVE A JOB AT THE END OF TODAY!!!" Instead, I practically whispered, "Hi, Sweet little ratty...want to come with me?"

Of course she didn't want to come with me. Life could never be so easy. The little bugger got startled and zipped across the room like a furry bullet. The chase was on.

I ran over to my classroom library where Limerick tried to hide between some bookshelves. I lunged for her tail, but she dodged and ran away again. I searched under my reading corner pillows and in between books, but I'd lost her. Blast!

After a few more minutes of frantic search, I discovered my little friend cowering underneath my bookshelf. Because I was afraid to startle her again, I set up a barricade with books around every possible escape route before I approached her. When I finally tried to catch her, the only way she could escape was to run straight at me. As she zipped towards my legs, presumably to try to dodge between them, I grabbed her tail and pulled her back as she continued trying to run (she looked as if she was running on a treadmill on my floor).

I picked Limerick up by her tail and cradled her in my arms as I took her back to her cage. I scolded her and told her to never do that again, but I don't think she really got the idea. I put her back in with her sister, and Limerick seemed to be relieved to be back in a place with food and water. Haiku immediately began cleaning Limerick and snuggling her as if to say, "I missed you, sister!" It was actually kind of cute.

The mystery remains: how did Limerick get out? The cage has not been damaged in any way, and the door was closed when I arrived at school this morning. My only hypothesis is that she squeezed through a tiny spot where one of the wires is broken, but it has been broken all year and the hole is only about a half-inch wide. It makes no sense! I brought the cage (and rats) home from school to observe them more closely, and also because I didn't want to lose one of them again. I think I'll have to buy a new cage before I bring them back to school again.

This morning certainly was a close call - it gave my heart a jump start before the students came in. They say all's well that end's well, though, and I'm happy to say that this story has a happy ending (so far...that little stinker had better not try to escape tonight, or our cat's not going to keep the ending so happy.) The hole is blocked for now, I hope...assuming that's where she escaped.

Oh crap. This story isn't over, is it?