If you know me, you may know that I occasionally lapse into fits of sentimentality, bordering on or wallowing in tears. These are usually triggered by National Geographic stories about horses, or varying other types of schlock entertainment about horses.
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To date, the lowest form of entertainment has been the movie Alexander. I totally misted up when Al met Bucephalus. And I out & out bawled when ol' Bucky died. Thankfully, the man was asleep on the couch at the time; I didn't have to explain myself. And yes, I watched the whole movie. In my self-defense, I was sick with a cold & couldn't comfort myself with NyQil. And I was all pregnant-lady hormonal too.
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Last night, Pat was watching tv. It was some kind of "news around the world show". I wandered off when they started discussing how Indonesia has been rebuilt since the wave, and came back in time for the article on the giant African rats that are being trained to sniff out land mines. (Almost typed land-mimes. Now there's a funny segue... wouldn't need rats to find them, though.) It was pretty interesting - they're far more efficient than other methods, etc etc.
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And then it hit me. A wave of mush. Emotional mush.
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Do you think it was the images of the small African children playing happily, now that there are no landmines in their fields?
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No.
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It was the fact that, because the rats are nocturnal, the handlers put sunscreen on their ears. Their wee ratty ears would sunburn, so they put sunscreen on them! How noble, the rat, sniffing along, endangering his life & limbs to flag landmines, and they sunscreen his ears for him. Thinking about it, I should feel cynical, because really, wouldn't he be better off in a little UV resistant bomb suit? But no. Waves of tenderness & schmaltz.
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Yes, I know I'm bonkers. But look! These are special rats, African giant pouch rats, and they're sort of cute. Unlike the norwegian ugly rats, or the creepy white lab rats.
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Here's the Nat Geog news article (also featuring bees):
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Here's the organization:
(Aww! Their ears!)
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