The Rat; Its History & Destructive Character. James Rodwell
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and a search was the result, when, to their great surprise, they found the cat suckling, not a kitten, but a young rat! Now it was quite clear that the poor cat had been in extreme pain from an overcharge of milk, and meeting with the young rat, had fondled it up, and from its giving her ease by drawing her milk, her attachment had grown as strong for the rat as for one of her own progeny, which was afterwards manifested to the great delight of numerous customers. If a strange dog came in the house, she would defend the rat with all the vicious determination of her nature; and even after he had grown up a fine, strong fellow, he would, in time of danger, run to her for protection. This curious circumstance spread far and wide, and proved a great attraction to the house; for the rat was as tame as a kitten, and would allow any of the children or customers to nurse and play with it. But, however, to the great sorrow of the landlords and their patrons, a traveller one day called, and, in the absence of the cat, his dog killed poor Master Rat. This was not only a pitiable affair, but a great loss to the landlords; for there is no doubt but many a man has made his fortune by a far less pleasing and remarkable phenomenon in nature.
At the railway stables at Wolverhampton, there was a cat which had a litter of five kittens. Three of the kittens were drowned shortly after their birth, and the cat seemed much distressed at their disappearance. She soon after, however, discovered a rat’s nest with a large litter of young ones, upon which she killed the old rat and all the litter but three, which three she carried to her own nest, and suckled them with her own remaining two kittens.
Now this certainly goes far to prove that cats are not such implacable enemies to rats as is generally believed, or they would not, in a state of nature, be so far reconciled, as not only to live with them, but actually, from their own choice, to suckle them in their infancy.
At a tavern in Woolwich, there was to be seen a tame piebald rat, most curiously marked, which was as docile as a puppy, and considered a great natural curiosity.
A friend of mine informed me, that when at home in Edinburgh, he kept a number of rabbits for amusement; and on the floor of the washhouse, where he kept them, lay the remains of an old iron pot which had been used as a copper; but, from some cause or other, a piece had flown out of one side, thus rendering it useless. One morning, when he entered the washhouse, he saw a beautiful and commodious nest of hay, straw, &c., built in the old pot, which was then quite warm. The neatness of the snuggery so excited his wonderment and curiosity, that he resolved upon leaving it alone, thinking he might presently come across the owner. Nor was he far wrong; for on the following morning, on going to feed his rabbits, he looked into the nest, and there lay fast asleep one of the finest rats he ever beheld. He said he could not find in his heart to hurt it, as it was such a beautiful, clean, glossy creature. Presently it awoke, and, instead of showing any alarm or desire to escape, it simply raised its head, and, after looking drowsily at him, opened its mouth, and gaped most lustily; then doubled itself up, and went off to sleep again; thus leaving my friend to mind his own business, and not interfere with him. This off-handed indifference so pleased my informant, that he laid him down some food, and thus left him unmolested to finish his sleep. For some time things went on in this way, till he proceeded, from feeding, to stroking him down the back, and tickling him with his fingers; and in this way was there a perfect friendliness established between them. However, one morning when he went into the washhouse, the rat met him half-way, and with tail erect he reared up on his hind legs, and opened his mouth with such menacing aspect and gesture, that my friend became alarmed, and thought it was time their familiarity should cease; so he ran for the poker, and on his return he found the rat in the iron pot, where he killed him. But he has regretted it ever since, believing, as he now does, that it only wanted to play with him.
A full-grown male rat was caught at an inn in Clerkenwell, and became so tame that the landlord’s son used to carry it about in his pocket. It answered to the name of “Tommy,” and was very fond of stretching on the rug before the fire along with the cat. For the amusement of the customers, the master would sometimes catch half a dozen mice, and put them into a pan or tub, and then master Tommy would kill them one after the other for the gratification of the lookers-on. His master said he was of infinite value in the cellar, as he used to decoy other rats, sometimes five or six of a night, into the traps, but always avoided them himself, and when his master wanted him it was only necessary to whistle, or call “Tommy, Tommy,” and he would instantly come forward, and crawl up his legs to be caressed.
Some time ago the driver of an omnibus was moving some trusses of hay in his hay-loft, when, snugly coiled up in a corner, he found a little miserable-looking rat, whose mamma, having tucked him carefully up in bed, had gone out on a foraging expedition to find something for her darling’s supper. The little fellow, being of a remarkably piebald colour, excited the pity of the omnibus driver, who picked him up, and took him home to his family. The children soon took to their little pet, and named him Ikey, after their eldest brother, whose name was Isaac. The little fellow soon grew up, and returned the kindness he had received by excessive tameness and gentleness towards every member of the family. He was, therefore, allowed to roam about the house at perfect liberty. His favourite seat was inside the fender or on the clean white hearth; but, strange to say, he would never get on it unless it was perfectly clean. On one occasion, when the good wife was cleaning the hearth, she gave master Ikey a push; so up he jumped on the hob, and, finding it an agreeable resting-place, there stayed. As the fire grew brighter and brighter, so the hob became warmer and warmer, till at last it became most unpleasantly hot; he would not move from his perch, but rolled over and over, till the hair on his legs and body became quite singed with the heat; and had they not taken him off, there is no knowing what might have been the consequences. His master held a perfect control over him, and had made, for his especial benefit, a little whip, with which he used to make him sit upon his hind legs in a begging posture when bid, or jump through a whalebone hoop, drag a small cart to which he was harnessed, carry sticks, money, &c., in his mouth, and perform many other amusing tricks. He perfectly understood the use of the whip, for whenever it was produced, and his master’s face or voice betrayed anger, in fear and trembling he would scamper up the sides of the room, or up the curtain, and perch himself on the cornice, waiting till a kind word from his master brought him down hopping about and squeaking with delight. In these gambols of mirth he would run round so fast after his tail that it was impossible to tell what the whirling object was, and his master would be forced to pick him up to stop him. At night he would exhibit another cat-like propensity, for he would stretch himself out at full length before the fire on the rug, and seemed vastly to relish this luxurious way of enjoying himself. This love of warmth made him sometimes a troublesome creature, for when he found the fire gone out, and the room becoming cold, he would clamber up gently on to his master’s bed, and bury himself under the clothes. He was never allowed to remain there long, if they were awake, but was made to turn out. In that case he would take up his quarters in the folds of his master’s clothes, which were placed on a chair; and there he was allowed to remain till the morning. The man became so fond of him, that he taught him, at the word of command, to come into his great-coat pocket. In the morning, when he went out to his daily occupation of driving his omnibus, it was only necessary to say “Come along, Ikey!” and the anxious Ikey was instantly crawling up his legs. He did not carry him all day in his pocket, but put him in the boot of his omnibus, to act as guard to his dinner. But why did not the rat eat his master’s dinner? “Because,” said the man, “I always gives him his belly-full when I has my own breakfast before starting.” The dinner was never touched, except when there happened to be plum-pudding. This Ikey could not resist. His liking overcame his sense of right, and he invariably nibbled out the plums, leaving the rest for his master. Ikey acted as a famous guard to the provisions; for whenever any of the idle vagabonds, who always lounge about the public-houses where the omnibuses bait, attempted to commit a theft by running off with the bundle out of the boot, he would fly out at them from under the straw; and the villains would run as if his Satanic Majesty were after them; and he thus saved his master’s and other property.
The Happy Family.
Having given a variety of well-authenticated facts respecting tame rats, and incidentally adverted to the “Happy Family,” a further description of that interesting group may be acceptable to those who have never seen it; and with this I shall wind up the present chapter.