A squeaktacious greeting to you from down here in The Big Cheesy on this Rat Tuesday! The party’s been going strong for days, and as the celebration abounds up on Bourbon Street, we rats are scratching it up down here in the sewers, some catching that occasional trickle of bourbon from above.
Both the bourbon and nearby Lake Ponchratrain are facilitating our “Ratty Gras” floats as they can just float along the pipes with ease, and the “shrews” hosting the parade certainly aren’t being stingy this year on throwing out throws. (This year’s most sought-after throws are necklaces stringed with cheese balls, and unfortunately more than one of the dames have bared their teats in order to procure these coveted trinkets. The more teats they show the more necklaces they get, and since the typical female rat can have up to eight, some of them are coming away feeling worry-free as they’ll have plenty to snack on over the next few days. But I find this whole practice rather immodest, to squeak you the truth.)
Cheese balls aside, the celebration hasn’t been short on vittles. This morning my good rat pal, Gus, and I consumed the better part of a King cheesecake, but Gus decided he’d had enough when he ended up nearly swallowing the hidden plastic pup. The icing also dyed our incisors purple, green, and yellow, so now when we smile we look like half a pack of Skittles. It tasted squeak-a-licious, though!
I’m happy to squeak that New Orleans has recovered well from 2005’s Hurricane Ratrina, which is great for us as many of the locals are no longer forced to live in FEMA burrows. Thanks to our groundhog friend Punxsutawney Phil getting the squeakout that the hurricane was coming, most of my rat brethren made it to high ground well in advance of the storm. And though it was very destructive, the hurricane did give the city a boon in flushing out its sewer systems. In the intervening years the city has seen a great rebound, and this Rat Tuesday is certainly one of the most rat-tastic yet!
So before Lake Ponchratrain floods us out and the season of Lent begins, I’ll squeak you adieu (after all, New Orleans is a French city) and scoot my rat rump back to the party, and remind you to let the good times – and the cheese balls – roll!
Keepin’ it squeak,