Southern Legitimacy Statement: The first twenty-one years of my life were spent cradled by the hills of eastern Kentucky. Now, after spending about two thirds of the intervening years somewhere in the south, I have returned to my old homeland.
Requiem for a Rat
The industrious little creature ran back and forth on the low bank of the river. He was one of the
unlovely, a rat. Sleek and fat, he lived a lush and easy life on the offerings of the current. Twice
blessed, he lived within sight of a large and overflowing waste dump that spilled down the
opposite hill, almost to the water’s edge. Now, he could have lived in the dump, or next to the
dump, but he preferred to live across the way; even a rat has standards. It was his habit to visit
the refuse pile many times a day, swimming back with his treasures. On this afternoon, he set
out as usual, entering the water and paddling toward his goal.
Ruthie sat in the dappled shade of the trees that lined the bluff overlooking the river. Humming
an aimless little tune, she pulled the petals from a daisy while she waited for her brother and his
friends to dress after their swim. She had begged Jake to let her come along, and he’d finally
agreed on the condition that she not be a pest. She’d kept her promise, splashing about by
herself in the shallows. Cool and refreshed, she smiled as she listened to the noisy progress in
the thicket, which hid the fellows from sight.
The crackle of the underbrush signaled that they were coming out, and she was careful to look
away, as one of them (Lucas) would usually threaten to push someone (the luckless Johnny) out
in the altogether just to shock her. Dick, the youngest, just echoed whoever took the lead. She
didn’t really believe they’d do it, of course, not with Jake there to pound some decent manners
into them. He always told them to cut it out, but there wasn’t much heart in it. He must have
thought that letting them tease her was a sort of tit for tat for having to put up with her. They
never got tired of this game. She rolled her eyes and it was then that she spied the rat. She hated
rats. She could see the ugly curve of its snout, held high above the water, could imagine its long,
nearly hairless tail hidden beneath the stream.
As the boys approached, she exclaimed, “Look, a rat!”
They needed no other invitation. As a body, the four of them began to pick up stones to throw.
The missiles rained into the water around the rat as it strove to reach the dump.
“Stop it!” Ruthie cried, pulling at Jake’s arm. “Stop it!”
He shook her off and increased his efforts, throwing harder and faster.
She kept up the outcry, but the boys were unmoved, the rat was fair game. They shouted
encouragement to each other, redoubling their attempts to hit the little animal. It made a strong
effort to reach the bank, which was less than a foot away, paddling with great fury and trying to
make way under the attack.
Ruthie saw it was no use trying to stop them, so she began to say a silent prayer. God, please
save the poor little critter. Please save it. Aloud, she screamed, “Come on, come on, swim!”
Tasting salt, she realized she was crying. “Swim,” she whispered.
Jake scooped up a large rock and flung it with a mighty overhand throw. It connected with its
target and the rat disappeared beneath the water. A few bubbles rose to the top of the stream
and then the river regained its calm, almost imperceptible flow.
A cheer went up from the boys and they slapped each other’s backs as they turned to begin the
long walk home, but Ruthie stood staring at the spot where the rat had gone down. She waited,
willing it to come back up. Her brother’s voice, demanding that she “get a move on,” shattered
her concentration. As she made to leave, she looked back once more at the unbroken surface of
the water. The ragged daisy lay at her feet, where it had fallen during the struggle. She picked it
up, and lifting her arm slowly, tossed it toward the spot where the river had swallowed the rat.
Running, she caught up with the boys, but she walked well behind them, only keeping them in
sight as they made their way along the dusty road. She had not known, before this day, that it
was possible to love the hated, and hate the loved.
