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Martin

I saw a rat die so I wrote this ode in his memory.

He came up from the sewer, you ask me what for?

To have a look around, to come and explore.

He wanted to better himself, wanted to be free,

Martin was a different rat; a maverick was he.

As the bathroom flooded, the water rose,

The drain was the route that Martin chose.

With whiskers a-dripping and tail soaking wet,

 He was like a lone wolf, no other rat met.

 Martin wanted more than this life of his,

Lonely and dark, a rat’s time is.

And all of his friends laughed at his talk,

 Of light and openness, where it isn’t wet where you walk.

As Martin went forth with his quest for the new,

He heard a loud noise and hid in a shoe.

“Uh-oh”, thought he, he’d come the wrong way,

“Did you see something there?” he heard a man say.

 Martin looked around and saw ribbons and vests

 And a rat-hating, blonde girl perching on a chest.

She screamed once and again ‘til her face turned to wood,

Then ran out of the room as fast as she could.

With the door shut, it was dark, Martin was alone,

This is ironic, he thought, I could have stayed at home.

 But he had to think quick, as the door opened a crack

And a cat was thrown in, the door closed, all went black.

Martin dashed across the room and hid behind the bin,

He wasn’t coming out, the cat wasn’t coming in.

The cat attempted to reach him, extending a feeble paw,

But Martin made him jump back with his mechanical roar!

 Now I know what you’re thinking, this cannot be true,

A rat doesn’t roar, that’s what lions do!

But I assure, you my friends, whilst mice may squeak,

A rat is quite different, they are strong not weak.

But what Martin didn’t know, was that Russell that cat,

Had no interest in catching and killing a rat.

 In fact, he resented his owners laying down the law

Saying he wasn’t a real cat if he didn’t catch rodents and eat his meat raw.

So as he didn’t want to chew Martin or scratch him on the nose,

He just made lots of noise so that all would suppose

That out of catly duty he was ridding them of a pest

 Meowing loudly, they would think him the best.

Martin knew what Russell was doing, and he played along,

Ensuring that outside the room they knew a “battle” did go on.

Thought cat and rat, “This is fun!”

More more amusing than the chase and run.

But little did they know of the incoming caretaker,

Terry, the small and bald Londoner; a nightmare maker.

 The cat went out and Terry came in

Started removing furniture, on his little face a grin.

Martin didn’t know where to hide, so he dashed for the door,

And made it out across the living room floor.

But Terry was quick, and ran right behind,

Got Martin into a corner, shoes on the lino whined.

He went at him with his metal claws

But Martin wriggled away, looking for doors.

Now, I won’t go into what happened next,

For those who are fragile may become quite vexed.

All I’ll say is Martin met his end,

As Terry’s shoe went down on him again and again.

So let us learn, next time we see a rat,

They may want to end up as more than food for a cat.

Whilst rat worlds and human’s may never collide,

Let us try to live happily, underneath and beside.

RIP MARTIN

Martin the Rat

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About iamlikeawednesday

With a stick of rock and deckchair in tow, I arrived from the sea-side three years ago. Being half mermaid, I’ve been dipping my tail into all things London. Including the Thames (not recommended). I like all things free, as the best things in life are, and will only leave a party or club at gunpoint. Come say hello! I’m the one dancing with the weirdo in stonewash denim, shouting “one more!” as the lights come up…

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