When our pet rats die, we put them in the dumpster. I feel like it holds symbolism for them as a place of abundance and freedom, as well as being their traditional stomping grounds. A few days ago we have one put down for the first time. We did a little ritual where we arrange neighborhood flowers around her and give her Cheerios for her journey/rat Charon, say a few words, do butchered a mourner’s Kaddish, and gently lower her into the apartment dumpster. It’s not crazy at all. Five fucking minutes into a silent backyard beer after we laid her to rest, some dude on a bike rolls up to go through the building’s trash. We hear “What the fuck, who puts a dead rat in here???” As if we have ANY responsibility to make our trash accessible to the people that go through it? dgaf about recycling, rifle away, go dumpster dive at Trader Joe’s, but personal trash isn’t personal. We waited a half a fucking hour for this dude to leave, only to find that he ripped open the box and dumped her poor little tumored body loose in the garbage. Well fuck you buddy. Fuck you forever, I hope that rat corpse terrified you. I hope the rest of your waking days are haunted by rodents from now on, and every mouse and rat you see scurrying around portends disaster and misfortune for the rest of your days. I hope they infest your grain. Everyone you watch ratatouille from now on I hope you get diarrhea. A curse upon your house.