The huge beast was coming straight for me. Mouth agape, saliva dripping, I could see the rows of razor-sharp teeth. It lunged. I tried to move but my legs were in cement. I was paralyzed with fear…and then I screamed.
Was that the end of me? No, just the
latest installment in a long history of nightmares about my favorite creatures.
“It was rats, wasn’t it?” was all my
wife needed to ask the next morning.
“Yup.”
So now you know my big secret. I
have rodentophobia. I am afraid of rats. I don’t mean just a little bit. I’m
talking “heart-attack-city,” “scream like a little schoolgirl” scared. Rats are
my main nemesis, but to be honest, I get the willies from just about all those
furry little vermin—mice, gerbils, hamsters, guinea pigs, although I can
appreciate a nice squirrel…in a tree. I tolerate rabbits because I convince
myself that technically they are not rodents. Rabbits are lagomorphs, a closely
related but distinct family.
I don’t really know why I am so
afraid of rats. I like spiders and snakes—well, not really, but they don’t
scare me. One of my earliest memories is of playing with a pet hamster, which I
did like. My brother, who is 14 years older and also a veterinarian, thinks he
knows why I am afraid. He says he used to put his pet white rat in my crib with
me. Knowing him, I believe that.
People are amazed I made it all the
way through veterinary school and never had to deal with any rats. The only rat
I saw during those years was in the large animal section of the building where
the feed and hay were stored. That wasn’t a good day.
A few farmers know of my affliction,
and some are even sympathetic. One time at a dairy farm, I saw a flash of brown
out of the corner of my eye. “What was that?” I asked, knowing that the farmer
had seen it too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Doc,” was all I got
from the kind but expressionless face. I knew.
My most horrible real-life nightmare
occurred late one Saturday night on an old farm north of Ottoville. I was there
to see a sick steer. At least I think it was a steer—that part of the memory is
a smidge hazy. After walking into the dimly lit barn, it took my eyes a few
moments to adjust. And then I saw them. Not just one or two, there must have
been dozens, maybe hundreds. They were everywhere—in the feedbunks, on the
rafters, and worst of all, some were crawling through tunnels in the manure
just inches from my boots. I can still remember how the little bit of light
glimmered on their greasy coats. I don’t know how I survived. As to what was
wrong with the cow or steer, or its outcome, I can’t remember—it was hard to
concentrate on anything but rats.
I read in Time magazine years
ago that G. Gordon Liddy, from the Watergate days, was also afraid of rats, as
a boy. To overcome his fear, he decided one day to kill a rat, cook it, and eat
it. He reasoned that the rats would then fear him. I won’t be doing that.
So after all this talk about rats,
you might be asking yourself, “What is the point?” and “How is he going to
relate this column to sheep?” because you know it is coming.
The point is I like cats. In my
opinion there is no better rattrap or poison than a good cat, or better yet, a
bunch of cats. Most people think of dogs as man’s best friend, but in my mind,
cats are right up there.
But there is a problem with cats and
how they relate to the sheep business. That problem is Toxoplasmosis, a
protozoal disease that causes abortion in sheep and goats, as well as birth
defects in humans.
Cats transmit this organism to sheep
and goats through fecal contamination of feedbunks and hay. Many sheep
veterinarians are very anti-cat, and think the only way to protect sheep from
this disease is to eliminate all the cats on the farm.
In truth, most cats only shed the
Toxoplasma oocysts or eggs for a short period of time in their lives. Kittens
usually begin to hunt between four to six months of age. They obtain the
Toxoplasma agent from the tissues of their prey, become infected themselves,
and pass oocysts in their feces for a two or three week period before
developing immunity, and cease oocyst shedding. Mother cats nursing litters, or
cats infected with feline leukemia or feline immunodeficiency virus, that is,
cats with compromised immune systems, may shed oocysts at inappropriate times.
Therefore, keeping a healthy stable
of older, neutered adult cats, avoiding kittens when ewes and does are
pregnant, maintaining litterpans in barn aisleways, and nixing the purchase of
feces contaminated hay, should help make your sheep and goats safe from
Toxoplasmosis, and you and your veterinarian safe from rats.
As luck would have it, the morning
after my nightmare I described at the beginning of this column, on my way to
the barn, I stumbled across the back-end remains of a small rat. I didn’t even
know there were any around, and believe me, I look. A search revealed no other
signs of rats nor the front end of that one. I guess my cats are still doing a
great job. Nevertheless, it wasn’t a good day for me, or the rat.
The Lima
The
American Southdown Journal- Fall 2004
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