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TwitThisA Beautiful Relationship
But once the cage was newly fresh, I looked around and didn't see her. At last I found her, in the corner where I'd piled my shoes, perched atop a pair of Italian leather oxfords. She had chewed a hole right through the top of the left shoe. I screamed. She looked up at me. Smug? Was that a smug look on her ratty mug? I picked her up by the tail and put her into the cage.Not long afterward I was reading in bed one night and looked up to see Hester in her cage, standing at the door. With a sigh, I decided I'd try just once more. Carefully, I let her out and then placed her up onto the loft bed. While I read, she explored the hills and dales made by the comforter, staying mostly near my feet. I could see her occasionally looking in my direction, watching my hands each time they turned the page. The way she sat, ears alert, whiskers twitching, she almost looked cute, in a ratty kind of way.
Suddenly she came charging, right toward the hand lying idle on my stomach. I flashed back to tiny pointy teeth, and just as she got to my hand, I used it to shoo her away. She retreated to the foot of the bed.
"Get away, you rat," I said.
She shook herself off, looked me dead in the eye and came galloping back. Again I shooed her to the foot of the bed. Again she charged, once more into the breach. I looked at her. She didn't look angry or frightened. She was alert and interested. Could it be? Maybe, just maybe, after that initial period of being freaked out, what I had taken for aggression was actually play. Maybe what I had thought was hostility was in fact interest. Had I misread her?
Slowly I moved my hand in front of her. She watched, and then gave chase. I stopped and held my hand still. I braced myself as her mouth came near my finger. I froze, waiting for pain. She sniffed, sniffed, and, gently, with her nose, nudged it. I moved my hand in circles, and in circles she followed. Hester wanted to play. I put my hand down, palm up. She crawled slowly onto it. I brought her up to my face, eye to eye, and finally we saw each other. I was shocked by my own ignorance, by my inability to recognize her for who and what she was -- playful, curious and engaged. My heart swelled.
This, I felt, was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Every night from then on, as soon as I'd get home, I'd let Hester out of her cage, only putting her back when it was time for sleep. And so we reached an understanding. Until I appreciated Hester for who she was, we couldn't connect. She wasn't who I wanted her to be -- Prudence; she was, and could only be, herself. Love can be an imaginative act not only of seeing what's there, but accepting what isn't. Looking down at my rat, nestled in my armpit, I felt mostly lucky in love.
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