Unfiltered Story #299852
At my high school, senior pranks are discouraged but ultimately expected. Two people in my graduating class had the brilliant idea to release live animals in the school. One released a hundred crickets all around the building and the other released two rats in one of the locker rooms. This kicks off what I like to call “the rat story.”
In my third-hour class, one of my classmates brings her lunch pouch to class. It’s been emptied and lined with paper towels, and when she lets people look in it, there’s one of the rats from the locker room. It’s clearly not wild, it’s a white and tan rat from a nearby pet store. The rat is friendly and calm, even in a room full of noisy high schoolers, so I get to pet it.
During the next class period, I have study hall. The study hall teacher lets us sit outside as long as we don’t go too far, so I’m outside to witness a parade of people with a familiar lunch pouch talking loudly and walking across the campus. It becomes pretty clear that they’ve been told by the school administrators to release the rat.
After a few seconds of internal debate, I follow them, because there is no way this can end well. There is no way a pet rat can survive in the wild; it’ll die almost immediately since it doesn’t know how to care for itself. And this sweet little rat does not deserve to die. Even if it managed to survive, it would probably breed, and neither of those are great options.
So I end up chasing the parade of people halfway across the campus and somehow convince them to let me take the rat, which stays blessedly calm as I carry it back to where I was sitting for study hall.
Meanwhile, I am beginning to panic. There’s no way I can realistically care for a rat, since I don’t have the supplies, my mother hates rodents, and even if I had the supplies, I would only be able to care for it for the summer before going to college with non-pet-friendly dorms. The rat happily sniffs around and explores my lap while I frantically look up rat rescues and try to prepare myself to text my mother about getting the rat to a shelter. I contemplate returning it to the pet store, but I don’t know which location it was purchased from and have no way of getting the receipt.
A couple people come and talk to me while I try to find somewhere to take the rat: my study hall teacher to tell me the administrations won’t let the rat back into the building, a classmate wanting to know how I managed to get the rat, and some other classmates who are just enjoying the sight of me playing with a rat while freaking out over what to do with it.
Ten minutes before the end of the class period, I’ve found almost nothing and feel like crying. Another classmate comes up to me and asks if it’s one of the rats that was released in the locker room. I tell him it is and briefly vent about how I can’t keep the rat and don’t know what to do, because of I let it go it’ll either die immediately or start breeding.
To my amazement, he offers to take it. I ask him if he has a cage and sawdust and he says yes. I’ve never gotten along with this classmate, but I’m desperate and have no better options, so I give him the rat and yell after him to make sure it has water and maybe some fruit as he takes the rat to his car.
I go inside for the last few minutes of study hall, and more people ask about the rat, so I tell them what happened and who I gave the rat to. One of my classmates says, “Oh, he was probably lying.”
I really hope that rat is okay!
