A rat died in our yard last night.
He was still on his way to die when we saw him on the back porch, staggering around in a mental fog. We figured he’d gotten hold of the poison in one of the traps we’d set. We set the traps out to lure him to the poison, in hopes the poison would kill him and his kind. But that was in theory. Watching him stagger toward his end … that turned out to be something else again.
It bothered me, watching him in extremis. And I know that’s a bit ridiculous. Watching a dog or cat or horse die is one thing; stepping on a roach or swatting at a mosquito is something else altogether. Flies and snakes are expendable … canaries and goldfish, less so. ‘m not sure where rats fit on the spectrum.
Or, maybe it’s not the spectrum. Maybe it’s just me.
In high school biology, we were each assigned a white rat for experimentation purposes. We were to practice giving them shots, of what I don’t recall. It wasn’t supposed to do them any harm – not that that mattered to other students in the class. My peers laughed as they dangled the writhing rats by their tails, and giggled at each other’s ideas for torturing them. Seemed I was the only one bothered at the thought of hurting a rat.
So, naturally, I ended up being the only one to kill mine … accidentally. (I was never good at giving shots.) My fellow scientists-in-training loved the irony, and teased me mercilessly. They even got something into the yearbook about it.
I am aware of a certain hypocrisy on this subject. I don’t care for eating lobster – hard to swallow something I just walked by and saw huddling in the corner of a tank. Shrimp, fish, chicken, and beef, though, ‘m fine with. I haven’t had to look those entree´s in the eye.
Honestly, I really have no great affection for rats. But I have even less for death – enough not to wish it on anyone, even a rodent. Where does the pity come from?
That may depend on another question: does God make distinctions between rats and sparrows?
“Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin?” Jesus asked His disciples. The copper coin would be our equivalent of a penny – Jewish sellers offered customers five for two cents; sparrows were so more-where-that-came-from, they threw the fifth in free.
In other words, sparrow life came cheap, and yet, Jesus said, “not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
Rats, presumably, were too plentiful / worthless to sell at any price, and yet … the principle must surely apply.
Of course, Jesus didn’t say sparrows wouldn’t die, or that people shouldn’t buy them to eat. He just said they were precious in the sight of God. And that we should think about what that says, as to how much He cares about each of us.
A friend of mine has been making some bad choices lately – choices that have deeply wounded those close to him. A lot of people tried to explain to him the terrible mistakes he was making, and what those mistakes could cost him. He would not be dissuaded.
This week, his eyes finally opened. Horrified, he glimpsed the enormity of what he had done. He is still realizing the price. Listening to him pour out his guilt and his fears, I’m reminded of that dazed rat on my back porch, staggering in a helpless fog, trying to shake off the effects of the poison.
It’s not just the rat ‘m reminded of, though. I’ve been known to poison my own soul, at points along the way. Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come. T’was grace that led me safe thus far … but worse traps, I fear, are waiting.
I didn’t rush the rat to a vet. Made no effort to save him. The last we saw of him, he was lying on his side in the tall grass – glassy-eyed, barely breathing. Inside, I lay awake for a little while, thinking that was a lonely way to die … even for a rat.
Thought, too, on a passage from Romans:
For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die … but God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
Came the morning, and we went out to bag the dead rat and put him in the trash.
He wasn’t there. Searched the whole yard. Not a trace.
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