A story people wanted to hear. . .it's a little ratty

So, for some reason, last week at work we were swapping bus stories.  So, I told a story related to a "fuzzy" time in my life.  Fuzzy in more than one way.  You'll see what I mean.

In April of 2008 I went to the  Passport to Woodenville.  For those of you that haven't heard of this event, it involves a lot of wine in two days.  If you're doing it right, you're using the spitters.  There are those of us that. . . well. . . don't.

My friends Harry and Barb took me out as I hadn't been in a while (it was only about 6 months after Alistair passed away) and we had a good two days.  The original plan was for me to hang with Barb and Harry at their house the first night.  Woodenville isn't too far from my house in downtown Seattle, but it was far enough that we didn't want to bother with driving.  It would be like a "staycation" for me.

The sad part was that my cat, CJ, well, Alistair's cat, was very ill.  He had beeb diagnosed with colon cancer and wasn't going to be with us much longer.  The vet said that as long as he was still eating and cuddling, he was doing ok.  His eating and cuddling had gotten more feeble, so I wasn't very inclined to spend any time away from him.  He was 19, and he had had a good life, but I was not yet ready to spend any time away from him.  Those of you that knew Alistair and his love for cats (specifically CJ) know that CJ led a VERY spoiled life!

So instead of staying the night at Harry and Barb's house, I opted to take the 522 home that night and then back the next day in order to spend more time with CJ.  This is where the adventure begins. . .

I was a bit fuzzy when I got on the bus. . . remember, there are those of us that don't use the spitter at the winery events (this is a cautionary tale for those of you that don't use the spitters, to USE THE SPITTERS).  We had visited at least 15 wineries at that point, so a bit fuzzy was a good way to describe myself.  It was also about 8pm-ish. . .

About two stops later (it's a 1/2 hour bus ride - give or take a few minutes), a man got on the bus with a duffel bag.  When I had boarded the bus, I had taken the first seat at the front on the left side of the bus; he took the two across the aisle.  The ride went as per normal for a few more stops.  Then he opened his duffel bag and pulled out. . .are you ready?

A RAT - a baby one, but a RAT.

I was a bit, let's say, bewildered, but not grossed out or anything.  Remember, I'm a bit fuzzy.

This is an interesting turn of events, so I go ahead and say hi and ask him about his rat.  He tells me the following:  He has just left his warehouse in Woodenville to pick up his pet rats to bring to Seattle.

ok - did I hear the right?  I did, so I ask about why he is bringing them to Seattle and how many he brought.  He proceeds to open his duffel bag and which point a do blanch a bit because there are at least 30, yes 30 rats in the duffle bag.  One of them is HUGE since it's the mama.

Hmmmm. . . he then asks me if I want to hold one.  Do, I freak out, do I decline, do I accept?  A non-fuzzy person would probably decline, but remember. . . I didn't spit.  So, I picked one up.   Please forgive the quality of the pictures. . . remember, fuzzy.

As it turns out, baby rats are fuzzy too.  And AWFULLY cute and cuddly.  How do I know?  He had me hold another one.

  They are super adorable and very friendly.  And curious.  They like to travel.
  They had so much fun, they eventually fell asleep for the rest of the ride.  I was so intrigued. . . or fuzzy. . . or, well, I'm not sure what possessed me.  

But I decided that I wanted to take a picture of the guy that sells rats from a warehouse in Woodenville.  He looks. . . like he sells rats from a warehouse in Woodenville.

Anyway, I made it home safe. . .


And I made it back the next day.  I spit more that day.  Thanks Harry and Barb!