“Dad, we just bought a rat!” Eli exclaims on the phone.
“You bought a what?”
“A rat, Dad. His name is Rocky and he’s white and I’m going to feed him cheese and I’m going to hold him and he’s totally awesome!”
“Well, that’s, um, well. A rat? Really? Hey, put your mother on.”
“He’s very sweet, honey” his mother explains. “And just wait till you see his testicles. They’re so big they drag the ground.”
“A well-endowed rat,” I say and exhale deeply, loudly, deliberately. “That’s just we need.”
“See, that’s my thinking, too. I’m glad you understand.”
“Wait. Hang on. That’s not really what I meant.”
And that’s how it happened, how Rocky—full name: Rockford Ignacio Lesley, but only when he’s in trouble—became the family rodent:
I’d include a picture of his testicles, but this is a family site, and all the shit here is G rated.
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