The Year of the Rat

Maya was born in the Chinese Year of the Rat - industrious, ambitious, loyal & loving.

We just had our Night of the Rat. I was sitting at my computer in the kitchen (the only place in the house where the wireless reception picks up), pleasantly minding my own business, while Ahmed was catching up on his latest TV series. A big, fat rat casually walked straight past my feet. I screamed. Rat jumped for his life and took off under the kitchen door out into the garage. We think. We hope. He could be still holed up behind the fridge. In the oven. Under the sink.

Mr. Rat is the latest in a string of unwelcome guests here. The minor ones: spiders and flying red ants. The pesky ones: mosquitoes and flies. The downright disgusting and hard-to-get-rid-of ones: fleas. Pepi's dog is covered in fleas and parades around outside, so as soon as I've vacuumed and washed everything, I think they're just jumping off Keefie the dog, back into our house.

Ah, we're looking forward to life in sterile Abu Dhabi and our hermetically sealed apartment. I guess the trade-off is no garden.