My husband was bitten by a rat. Here's why it made me grateful.
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Until recently, my husband and I lived in Brighton, where the rats are dumpster denizens with mangy fur, scars, and all the desperate energy of creatures that live on trash and the remnants of student pizza parties. The first time I saw a Roslindale rat, I did a double take: shiny fur, clean noses, little white paws. They're almost cute. They're basically pets, fed from the shaken-off bird seed beneath the feeders in almost every yard. I didn't fear them, not like I did the ones that swarmed on trash day in Cleveland Circle.
Clearly, I should have. One of them bit my husband.
Just like the woman in the Fenway, we went to the hospital. The staff were quick and professional, if trying their best not to show their horror or bemusement. Me too. They were also surprised to learn where we lived: on a residential block in Roslindale, with no dumpsters, only a mile from the hospital in which we sat. 'Here?' one of them said. Yes, here.
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My husband was given the largest penicillin pills I've ever seen, which he took multiple times a day for the next few days to prevent
In between visits from hospital personnel, my husband filed a 'Rodent Activity' report in the Boston 311 app on his phone while I asked permission to tell friends and family. Guess where we are? Guess why? Within an hour and a half, we were back home, my husband's ankle was bandaged, and his prescription was waiting at the pharmacy.
The next morning, two city employees, both of them something like rat catchers, called to get the full story and detailed location, and to let my husband know they were coming by our neighborhood that day. One of them explained through a thick Boston accent that his crew sometimes got bitten by rats whose nests were being cleaned out, but that an unprovoked bite was 'supah weahd,' which it was.
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But maybe not? Maybe not anymore?
Everything about that night was supah weahd, but it made me grateful. Thank God for Boston, where the rats bite, but there's good health care. Thank God for Boston, where the 311 alerts are monitored and not one, but two city officials promptly took action. Actually, three city officials: A week later, my husband got a call from someone in the public health department to see if he was Rat Bite Feverish. He wasn't. He's fine.
For that matter, thank God for Massachusetts, which runs the Health Connector through which I buy our health insurance. For years, my husband and I have been adjunct instructors, unbenefited for the benefit of the university's bottom line. So it is far from a perfect world. The rats are biting, unprovoked. But I consider myself lucky to live in a place where public services are still for the benefit of the public.
And what became of my husband's adversary? After the hospital, we drove by the scene of the crime. It was maybe midnight. The rat, formerly lying motionless on its side, was gone.
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Boston Globe
a day ago
- Boston Globe
My husband was bitten by a rat. Here's why it made me grateful.
We both stared for a moment and then scampered home to tend his wounds. Advertisement Until recently, my husband and I lived in Brighton, where the rats are dumpster denizens with mangy fur, scars, and all the desperate energy of creatures that live on trash and the remnants of student pizza parties. The first time I saw a Roslindale rat, I did a double take: shiny fur, clean noses, little white paws. They're almost cute. They're basically pets, fed from the shaken-off bird seed beneath the feeders in almost every yard. I didn't fear them, not like I did the ones that swarmed on trash day in Cleveland Circle. Clearly, I should have. One of them bit my husband. Just like the woman in the Fenway, we went to the hospital. The staff were quick and professional, if trying their best not to show their horror or bemusement. Me too. They were also surprised to learn where we lived: on a residential block in Roslindale, with no dumpsters, only a mile from the hospital in which we sat. 'Here?' one of them said. Yes, here. Advertisement My husband was given the largest penicillin pills I've ever seen, which he took multiple times a day for the next few days to prevent In between visits from hospital personnel, my husband filed a 'Rodent Activity' report in the Boston 311 app on his phone while I asked permission to tell friends and family. Guess where we are? Guess why? Within an hour and a half, we were back home, my husband's ankle was bandaged, and his prescription was waiting at the pharmacy. The next morning, two city employees, both of them something like rat catchers, called to get the full story and detailed location, and to let my husband know they were coming by our neighborhood that day. One of them explained through a thick Boston accent that his crew sometimes got bitten by rats whose nests were being cleaned out, but that an unprovoked bite was 'supah weahd,' which it was. Advertisement But maybe not? Maybe not anymore? Everything about that night was supah weahd, but it made me grateful. Thank God for Boston, where the rats bite, but there's good health care. Thank God for Boston, where the 311 alerts are monitored and not one, but two city officials promptly took action. Actually, three city officials: A week later, my husband got a call from someone in the public health department to see if he was Rat Bite Feverish. He wasn't. He's fine. For that matter, thank God for Massachusetts, which runs the Health Connector through which I buy our health insurance. For years, my husband and I have been adjunct instructors, unbenefited for the benefit of the university's bottom line. So it is far from a perfect world. The rats are biting, unprovoked. But I consider myself lucky to live in a place where public services are still for the benefit of the public. And what became of my husband's adversary? After the hospital, we drove by the scene of the crime. It was maybe midnight. The rat, formerly lying motionless on its side, was gone.
The Onion
6 days ago
- The Onion
Disgusted God Puts Giant Overturned Glass Atop Humanity
THE HEAVENS—Moments after spotting hordes of the minuscule creatures skittering across the face of the earth, the Lord, Our Holy Father, reportedly became disgusted Thursday and placed a giant overturned glass atop humanity. Heavenly sources confirmed the Almighty cursed in surprise when He first spotted the massive swarm of human beings crawling through Creation, but He soon scrambled to overturn a 70-million-foot-tall drinking vessel and contain the planet's infestation, trapping the enormous mass of 8.1 billion squirming pests inside. 'Gross, gross, gross, they're getting all over the place!' said the visibly nauseated deity, who after a short search around His Kingdom retrieved a 10,000-mile-wide paper plate He could slide beneath the glass to ensure the scampering throngs didn't escape. 'Ugh, I hate the twitchy way they move. And the tiny hairs all over their bodies. Plus, they're always kind of moist. Totally creeps me out.' 'Seriously, I might puke just looking at them,' the Lord continued. According to witnesses, God discovered the human colony late at night after turning over a cloud in heaven's sanctum sanctorum to find billions of the creatures writhing on the planet below. Several reports confirmed that after trapping humanity, the Almighty Creator exhibited a wide range of coping responses that included wincing in stunned silence as He gazed at the humans from afar, audibly gagging at the sight of saliva dripping from their jaws, and even shouting 'Get out! get out!' at the tiny noncomprehending beings for over a minute. Though he momentarily regained His composure by taking some deep breaths, the Lord is said to have fallen into a fit of dry-heaving after He spotted several humans in Central Europe expelling bodily fluids as they copulated. After recovering once more, He was seen rolling up an ancient scroll and approaching the glass with the papyrus brandished in His Divine Hand. 'If I let them out they'll infest all of Creation—they breed like crazy,' said He Who Divided the Heavens and Earth, tapping on the side of the glass as several million inhabitants of the North American continent scurried helplessly away inside the cup. 'I used to think the ethical thing was to release them, but they always seem to find their way back to me. Then they get into my shit and start eating through everything in sight. Plus, they stink up the place.' Official records confirmed this is far from the first time the Eternal One has struggled with a human incursion. Once, as a younger deity, the Lord reportedly placed a pair in His garden, gave them fruits and herbs, and even named them, only to grow bored after several months. When He remembered them several years later, Our Heavenly Father was frustrated to discover an out-of-control population scuttling all over the globe. Since then, God is believed to have grown far more impatient with humanity's tendency to decimate forests, contaminate food supplies, and spread disease. A small number is enough to send Him stomping on the fleeing beings, and sources said on one occasion He leapt onto His Heavenly Throne and refused to get down until the Holy Ghost exterminated them. 'You can smite a few of these fuckers, but there will always be more on their way,' said the Almighty, grimacing as the appearance of His Eternal Face outside the glass sent huge quantities of the miniscule beings scattering for cover in South America. 'You can set them on fire, crush them, even throw them out into space—they always bounce back and start breeding like nothing happened. Maybe I'll just put a bunch of water in there and see if they drown.' 'Although, that's never worked before,' the Creator of All Things added. At press time, God was seen spraying a massive bottle of Axe Body Spray over the entirety of Creation in a final attempt to wipe out the human infestation once and for all.
New York Post
6 days ago
- New York Post
Dear Abby: My husband is addicted to cannabis — and it makes me want a divorce
DEAR ABBY: My husband is going to be 70 next month. He is in good physical shape but has taken up smoking marijuana every day. He says he is addicted. I have told him how much I hate that he uses dope. He quits for a while and then goes back to it. We have been married almost 50 years. I would be disappointed filing for divorce, but I am starting to think it's my only way out of a situation that has become increasingly frustrating. His doctor has told him it probably won't kill him. Seriously? What's your advice, Abby? — POTHEAD'S WIFE IN ARIZONA DEAR WIFE: Unless there are other reasons why you want out of your marriage, perhaps you should lighten up. Some people smoke marijuana to relax or to relieve tension, depression or even boredom. Do you know why your husband does it on a daily basis, and why you are bothered to the point you are considering divorce? Before talking to an attorney, you might benefit from attending a few Nar-Anon meetings to gain some insight. They're as near as your computer at DEAR ABBY: I recently bought a new house. I was downsizing because my mother has passed away and my daughter went out of state to college. I invited my best friend and her son over. We have been best friends since junior high, and I love her dearly. I actually bought my new furniture with weight considerations as a factor because she and her son weigh about 1,000 pounds combined. As they sat down, my friend joked about having broken other people's furniture in the past. Then there was an audible 'crack' as they sat down on my couch. She just looked at me and made no comment. Abby, I know friendship is more valuable than a couch, but she wants to bring more of her family over to visit. I simply can't afford to buy a $900 couch every few months. Can you please help? — HESITANT HOSTESS DEAR HOSTESS: Your friend should have offered to pay to have your new sofa repaired or replaced. That she heard the wood crack under the burden of their weight and said nothing speaks volumes to me. In the future, visit her at her home, but refrain from inviting her to visit or bring relatives to your home again. DEAR ABBY: My husband and I have neighbors we are not interested in being friends with. We are a religious family and believe in God. They have a black ram's head hanging in their living room, if you catch my drift. They keep inviting us to events at their home or to spend time with them, and we don't know how to politely decline without making anyone angry. How do we keep our distance? — STAYING AWAY IN NEW YORK DEAR STAYING AWAY: Have you and your husband been accepting their invitations? If that's the case, start backing away by having 'other plans.' However, if they don't take the hint, begin sending them religious tracts from your denomination, and they may disappear in a puff of sulfur. Dear Abby is written by Abigail Van Buren, also known as Jeanne Phillips, and was founded by her mother, Pauline Phillips. Contact Dear Abby at or P.O. Box 69440, Los Angeles, CA 90069.
