Rats.

No dribbles (gerbils).

Two rats.

...

I know. I was adamantly opposed to Any More Rodents. Don't get me wrong; I like rodents, and have raised and kept many types of rodents, including several generations of mice, dribbles, hambsterbs of all sizes.

Never rats.

"It's the tail," I would always tell Mike, apologetically. Mike would shrug and say, "I didn't REALLY want one anyway, but they are fun to watch."

But in the Continuing Campaign for a Dog, Robin abruptly changed tactics.

To tears.

Now, hard-hearted Mommy will often say no. Tears, though, wash away any resistance Daddy has to, well, almost anything. Unless they're 'I got caught being bad' tears, in which case Daddy somehow manages to stay firm.

We went to Petco. We held the rats.

We came home with two female fancy rats, named 'Master' and 'Splinter'.

They're intelligent. Personable. Curious. It's like having a tiny tiny dog, only they aren't ugly like chihuahuas. They like to be tickled. They like US, and have people preferences. They actively want to be with us and on us. Robin is delighted. Lillian is entranced. Mike is really absorbed and bemused.

And I'm charmed, I have to confess.

Rats.

RATS.

What the heck will we end up with in 2008? Camels?