The year I moved to New York City, the Village Voice published an article detailing the extraordinary number of rats on the island. At that time, there were 8 million residents of NYC with 4 million commuters and visitors daily, totally 12 million people frolicking above what can only be imagined as a scene from Ratatouille - swarming, writhing nests of rodents. And their tally, you ask? Ready for this? 60 million. That's 5 rats per New Yorker, people! My very own 5 European brown rats. Only here's the kicker: I have a phobia of rats. It goes past the willies. It supersedes being grossed out. It transcends fear. I have a visceral response to the mere suggestion of rats. Ew. Ew. Ew!
In the 10 urban years I spent loving my city, I grew more tolerant of the rats' presence. I learned to ignore them. I pretended the movement I'd see in my peripheral vision on the subway tracks wasn't a colony of them. I wore rat blinders. I watched and enjoyed Ratatouille, even that scene when the old lady shot guns her ceiling down and they swarm like flowing water down into her house. (Ew. I got shivers and goose bumps just writing those words. Gross!)
But why? How did a nice suburban girl grow up with a rat phobia?
It's Melissa Gilbert's fault. In Season 1, Episode 18 "Plague" of Little House on the Prairie, there is a rat infestation and subsequently an outbreak of Typhus. When the source of the rats turns out to be a grain shed, the shed is swiftly burned to the ground by Pa Ingalls, our hero. It was violent and shocking, very, very scary, and not to mention super icky. I was only 4 or 5 when I first watched it. I was damaged rats good after that.
A few weeks ago, one of my oldest and best friends sat on my patio, worried that there might be rats in the backyard since we live off a green belt and there are lots of critters creeping around in the evenings. She proceeded to tell me that her fear started after watching (bap-bada-bah!!) Little House on the Prairie as a child. I knew we'd been friends all these years for a reason. We're kindred rat spirits. After all, the year of our birth is the Year of the Rat.
