Free Nell by Nancy Thayer Page B

who had had her feelings hurt because her rat bit while Jeremy’s didn’t, agreed with Nell. They wanted to call Clary to ask her advice, but she had moved apartments without leaving her new number or address, and she was using her new roommate’s phone and had told Nell only the roommate’s first name.
    Finally, Nell carried the cage with the rats in it out to the car and they drove to the country. There, she and the children went through an elaborate procedure, involving sticks and gloved hands, in order to get the bad rat out of the cage without having it bite and still prevent the good rat from running away, too. At last the bad rat was out in the countryside. It ran off into the tall grass. Nell drove home, exhausted. This escapade had taken three hours out of their Sunday afternoon. And Hannah was teary, thinking there was something intrinsically wrong with her that made her rat bite, and Jeremy was grumpy and worried, saying that now his rat would be lonely.
    Three nights later, at bedtime, Jeremy called Nell to his room. “Look at my rat,”he said.
    His rat was huddled in a corner of the cage, shrunken into itself, not responding when Jeremy tapped on the glass. Nell put the gardening glove on and put her hand into the cage. She dropped a fresh slice of apple in. “Chee-chee-chee,” she said.
    The rat did not respond except to shiver weakly.
    “God, Jeremy,” Nell said. “I think your rat is sick.”
    “But it can’t be,” Jeremy said. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve done everything Clary said!”
    “I know, honey. But it’s sick. Listen, let’s take it down to the kitchen. I can’t stand the thought of you going to sleep in a room with a sick rat in it.”
    They carried the cage downstairs and set it in the middle of the kitchen table. The rat fell over on its side and lay there, limp.
    Jeremy started to cry. “I loved that rat,” he said. “I took the best care of it I could.”
    At this point Nell got paranoid enough to wonder if this entire rat bit was some bizarre and convoluted ex-stepdaughter’s revenge on Clary’s part. She tried to soothe Jeremy. She promised him the rat would be better in the morning. Finally, she called a friend of hers who was a vet.
    “Marilyn,” Nell said, “I’ve got a problem. Jeremy has a pet rat and it’s sick. What can I do? I know it’s too late tonight to bring the rat into the clinic, but can you give me any advice?”
    Marilyn laughed. “Nell,” she said, “people have been trying for thousands of years to find out how to destroy rats. Rats are the best survivors on the planet. That rat will either get well by itself or die.” She laughed again. “ You would have a sick rat.”
    Nell translated the conversation into a more optimistic and kindly message for Jeremy: “Marilyn said that rats are very hardy creatures and that this rat will undoubtedly be better soon.” It didn’t entirely convince Jeremy, but it worked well enough to get him to go off to bed.
    Just before Nell went to bed, she returned to the kitchen to check the rat. It was shivering, and when Nell came close to the cage, it began to cry out in tiny whimpers. “Eeee-eee-eee,” it went, and Nell looked at its limp dreadful body and was overcomewith pity and revulsion.
    “I’m sorry, rat,” she said. “I don’t know what to do.” She still did not know how to locate Clary. She truly did not know what to do. Finally, she heated some milk and set it, in a small plastic bowl, inside the cage, close to the rat’s face.
    She arose early the next morning and hurried downstairs, wanting to get to the rat before the children saw it. She was certain it would have died overnight.
    But it had not died. It was now stretched out full-length in the cage on its back, its whole body wrenched with convulsions. It shuddered, its skinny legs jerked, and after one quick look, Nell raced to the kitchen sink and splashed cold water on her face, trying not to vomit. Then she went back