Catherine threw the remains of last night's jumbo slice in the garbage can outside our house. Not an unreasonable thing to do. But now there's a rat trying desperately to escape the trap she had inadvertently laid for him, and finding that getting in the can is a lot easier than getting out. Life imitates The Wire. I have named the rat "Rategger," but he's got to learn that this is a cold world, so I'd only be doing Rategger a disservice by helping him.

By the way, I name all animals with the -egger suffix. Kingsley, when I choose, is Dogegger, for instance. The only exception is an animal whose formal name ends in an N, which would just be too George Allen for my tastes.