TIMOTHY ,from yours squeaky, milena.
He was brilliant, scheming, bold, and so damn loyal. *sniffs and wipes a tear* The type of rat you would love to wake up next to. He was a lover who appeared indifferent till you climbed that high and slippery fence into his heart. I have always wondered why i did what i did. *sobs*
Timothy was a loner, at least he was that when i met him. The occasion that brought us together was not an ideal one but I’ll cherish it everyday, oh, and with tears. With tears big enough to drown the giants.
My brother Pupsy was a thief -every rat was, but Pupsy took his art to the extreme. He would rob the humans, that monstrous dog, the cats, and even his fellow rats. Pupsy’s body is marked all over with slipper bruises -where the humans had hit him, claw marks ‘where the cats had made a grab but failed, and club marks -in fights with his fellow rats. He was an unrepentant glutton who i always had to go help out when the disgruntled crowds got too big.
The day i met Timothy, Pupsy had just stolen his cheese and a fine meat. Timothy had tracked him down in the dead nowhere -a place where we went for food and death- carrying the stolen food home. I was in the tunnel when i heard a pain-filled yelp. I crept out stealthily through the hole to go see who the humans had got this time, only to find Pupsy hanging by his tail upside down from a human stool, and a ‘as-cool-as-ever-rat’ nibbling relaxedly at a chunk of cheese.
I noticed: the jet black hairs that seemed recently polished; the long slender tail; the liquid eyes that looked frightened and confident at the same time; the silver whiskers; and the lean body. I was surprised. No rat could do this to Pupsy. Only last night, he had beaten twenty burly rats and ate their fish in front of them.
I wanted to talk but Pupsy squeaked and mumbled.
“What?” I asked.
“Don’t fight him.” That was the first selfless sentence i had ever heard from Pupsy but i didn’t care. The little rat had disgraced my family. It must have been brains -Pupsy was regrettably slow in the head. I strode forward.
“Bring him down.” I demanded.
“Not until he says sorry and swears by our ancestors not to steal from fellow rats.” He continued eating, oblivious to any danger being in the dead nowhere meant.
“Get him down dirk head, the humans will be about any moment.” I fumed.
“Then he had better be fast, eh?” He looked at me with those liquid eyes and smiled, “oh, i’m Timothy by the way. It seems one of us has lost her manners.” He went back to nibbling.
I scampered towards him quickly and he wasn’t there again. He stood by the side picking his teeth as I crashed into the wall.
“Sorry! Sorry! I swear i won’t rob no more rats!” Pupsy shouted. I wondered what he did to make Pupsy so afraid of him.
Pupsy was let down and Timothy swaggered off.
“Are you hurt?” I asked Pupsy who was rubbing his buttocks. He ignored me. We heard stealthy steps then, steps that meant death. The cat was around. In fact, it was in front of us, backing us into the wall from where we had no escape. The cat’s wicked eyes took in the both of us; he wouldn’t let any of us escape.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eyes, i saw a flurry of legs move through the air at a lightening speed to land on the cat’s head. It was Timothy. The distraction gave us the chance to scamper away into the safety of the hole. Pupsy kept running-his selfish craving for life taking over him-till he disappeared from sight. I listened and heard scratchings and mewings and squeakings and thuddings and even bangings. I listened till i heard nothing more ; so i ventured out to see what had happened.
Timothy was lying in a pool of blood. The cat was lying in a corner, dead. I was stunned. Never had i seen a rat fight a cat. History had it that the group (giant formidable-looking rats)who did were killed till few were left. The remaining few slunk into hiding and crept out to kill helpless baby giants. Quickly, i gathered up Timothy -who was way too light- and made for safety.
It was during his period of weakness that we fell for each other. He said my hinds were muscular and sexy and that my tail was smoother than his. He would curl it around himself and tug playfully at my whiskers.
He was a fool because he died. Too much bravery, too much love, too much loyalty. Saving me and Pupsy from the cat was not his only act of bravery. He kept saving Pupsy -who was as incorrigible as ever- and me.
His last act was saving me from a big bucket of water. I had crept to the humans’ kitchen to warn Pupsy of an approaching giant, Timothy was with me. I leapt off a table, thinking the darkness before me was land. But Timothy had keener eyes. He dove off the table, knocked me away from the bucket and fell in there himself. The bucket was tall and the sides were smooth and slippery. Yet i was about to jump in when Pupsy caught me and dragged me away, for the giants i came to warn him about had come. They struck Timothy with big sticks to the head so he could tire and sink. I couldn’t do a thing. Pupsy wouldn’t let me.
“Let him. Live on and spread his ideology. You don’t have to die with him.”
Timothy died. I couldn’t save his life the way he had always saved ours. But before he died, he taught me to fight the cats. The humans are next.
I miss him. I miss Timothy. I miss my hero, my Savior, my lover. *sobs uncontrollably*
Milena(a lonely rat)
*got them inspiration when i saw a rat fall into a bucket of water.