Page 12 of Grumpy Puck

“Will you still come home for family dinners?”Mom asks worriedly.

“Of course.”I know I’ll miss everyone terribly; plus, I can’t cook to save my life, so a home-cooked meal will always be welcome.

“All right,” Mom says magnanimously.“Go get ready.”

I trek to the room that I share with my oldest sister, and of course, I catch her hanging upside down like a bat, her entire body held up by one foot hooked onto a trapeze that is hanging above the top bunk of our joint bed.

“Hey,” she says, her breath unnaturally even considering her position.“How was it?”

“Good.”

She narrows her eyes at me.“Just good?”

“Look, Seraphina,” I say.“If you want a more in-depth discussion, come down to my eye level.Otherwise, my neck will start to hurt.”

As I thought, she clearly isn’t that interested because she continues to hang.

I change into normal clothes and walk up to my rat habitat, an object that occupies all the square footage of this room that officially belongs to me.

“Hi, all,” I say, pausing Beethoven’s “Für Elise,” a composition that my little friends greatly enjoy.

Everyone greets me with gleeful chirps and hops.When Wolfgang rejoins the group, their jubilee is through the roof, at least until Marco tries to hump Wolfgang but is then chased away by Polo.

“You teach them anything new lately?”Seraphinaasks from her high perch.

I know she’s just asking to be polite, but I can’t resist pulling out a tiny unicycle and setting Lenin on it.

“Wow,” Seraphina says as Lenin makes circles on the table.“He can totally ride that.”

Yep.Being the cleverest and the most food-motivated, Lenin is the quickest learner.When I take him from the unicycle and give him his treat, he looks at me thoughtfully:

Tovarisch, I should get a bigger treat for that.It’s only fair since I, the rat proletariat, did all the labor here.

“You know, you could resurrect your old act,” Seraphina says.

She’s talking about the dark days when I rode a unicycle, an activity I enjoyed about as much as a root canal, and the latter is at least done under anesthesia.

“You could hold a circular platform in your hands,” my sister continues, “And have the rats ride their unicycles while you ride yours.”

I shake my head.“Too dangerous.”

She scoffs.“Oh, please.A unicycle act is too dangerous for rats, but walking on a tightrope isn’t too dangerous for Grandma?”

I roll my eyes.“You know nobody can stop her.”For that matter, is there a way to stop Seraphina herself from leaping to and fro at forty feet in the air?

“Touché,” Seraphina says.

“Everyone,” I say to the rats, “please don’t worry.I’m not taking your toys away.We’re just moving.”With that, I pack the various tunnels, exercise wheels, social and individual homes, and last but not least, the various toys meant for climbing, chewing, shredding, pushing, carrying, and foraging.

Once everything’s all packed into my car, I drive us over to the new place, where I set up my babies all over again.

“Want to go get the rest of my stuff?”I ask Wolfgang.

He scurries onto my shoulder, and I return to the circus to collect the rest of my possessions—which seem meager in comparison to those of my cute charges.

Once I’m fully settled in my new apartment, I take it in as if for the first time.

The place is spacious and has an amazing lake view, where, just to remind me that we’re still in Florida, a giant gator is warming himself on the bank.

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