The Boat and the Cooperative Rat

  At Angus Street we had a large teak picnic table with benches in our upper patio.  My father had laid all the slate and brick and made the backyard quite nice. He built a bar-b-que out of stone—which I never remember us using-- and made seats of wood slats.  This was where we entertained in the summer.  My uncle would come over and churn lemon custard ice cream.

 The picnic table was below a shading arbor and behind it was a bed of fuchsias planted into a stone wall.  When my parents were out of town it was my job to make sure those fuchsias had enough water.  When I was younger, I loved to go up to the patio and pretend that the table was a boat.  I would ride here and there in my imagination.

As summer arrived and friends and family came for bar-b-ques the table reverted to its original use.  My sister and I would go up and clean the table, cart out bowls of pickles, salads and potato chips and await the guests.   One summer, my mother discovered that we had a “wood rat.”  I think she thought that that name sounded a bit better than a regular old rodent rat. My sister and I were under strict orders not mention the rat at our dinner party that evening.  As we sat at the large picnic table, probably eating hamburgers I saw the nose and tail.  It was coming in the midst of our party and would be a nightmare for my mother.  I was seated next to one of my mother’s oldest friends.  I nudged her, gave her a look and then she saw it.  Thankfully, the “wood rat” scurried away and made its retreat.  My mother didn’t know until I told her the next morning.