Rat Race

I sat next to a guy on the bus tonight on the way home who got up soon after I sat down for his stop. He gathered his bags, and I noticed the one he placed on the seat as he adjusted his stuff was an animal carrier. I peered in, and saw some beady eyes looking back. ‘What is it?’, I asked. ‘A rat’, he said, and gave me a measured look. ‘Ah’ said I and peeked closer and said ‘hi’, like you do.

‘It’s a service animal, actually’, he said, sounding a little defensive even though I don’t think I made a face. But, I mean it was a rat, so maybe I inadvertently had.

‘That’s cool, doesn’t bother me,’ I said. Thought about it a bit. ‘So, like, emotional support?’

He laughed’ Oh yeah, I have major PTSD, trauma from all kinds of bullshit and war, this little guy keeps me sane’

‘That’s great. What’s his name?’


I peered in the little cage/bag again. ‘Keep working hard Bob!’

Bob stayed silent. I think he was eating a grape.

The guy smiled, peered in the cage as he picked him up, cooed to Bob, and was off.

Stay sane, brother. <3

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