Now I feel bad about it, but not then. Here’s why.
The last rat that lived hidden somewhere in the basement of our house went scurrying across my backyard. My best friend Jack was over as always. We both saw the rat at the same time. We picked up a brick and began tugging in opposite directions.
We each wanted to be the one to throw the brick. While we struggled, the last rat crossed our driveway and scurried toward the neighbor’s backyard. It was getting away!
I had to think quickly. It was only a second but it seemed like an eternity. I thought to myself: Jack is a little bigger and stronger than me and he may have more experience in such matters. Reluctantly I released my grip and yielded the brick to Jack.
He turned sideways and prepared to launch his brick. Instead of trying to throw it overhand like a baseball (that’s what I would have done) he let the brick fly like a basketball hook shot, tossing it high in the air so that it described a long curving arc rather than an arrow’s straight-line flight.
The brick came down on top of the old rat and killed it outright, crushing its head. A little trickle of blood oozed forth from its fatal wound. We celebrated! Against all odds, Jack had done it!
Fifty years later, I now pause to feel sorrow for the poor rat and its family. Such a thought never entered my mind at the time, but I have discovered over the years that compassion can be even deeper than wisdom.
R.I.P.
THE LAST RAT
