Living overseas, there is no lack for adventure. Some adventures are memorable. Some adventures you just pray to forget.


Well, on the day I met Bruno, I thought it was an adventure to forget.  But now I look back on Bruno with a fond, humorous affection. He truly was unforgettable. 


It was a day like any other. I scurried to and fro getting my motherly and wifely duties accomplished.

Dishes... check.

Bedroom... check.

Breakfast... check.

See? Boring, normal day, right? I should have known my life was about to change, because never ever do we have a normal day on the field.

Anyway, it was time to check on the situation with the laundry. Now let me set up the scene. Our laundry room is actually a tiny bathroom. It is about a 4'x5' tiled room that includes a small sink, an Asian squatty potty toilet, and a shower corner (no stall... just a corner and a drain.) We set the washing machine over the squatty potty and use it for the water to drain out. This tiny room is prone to rats (not mice) coming up through the potty drain. Because of that, we keep a rat cage set and ready near the base of the potty for any unexpected hairy visitors. Traditional rat snap traps are very rare to find because the people of our country worship rats... therefore, the cage is the preferred method by the country... not by me. Either way, I am quite thankful to have some form of containment for the pesky critters.

Now, I know your next question. "When you actually catch a rat, what do you do with it?" I am glad you asked. We kindly take these caged critters outside to be released back into freedom. We have conveniently placed two canines outside to help them with this transition back into freedom. The canines have been specially trained to play fun games with any form of rodent.

Ok, back to my "normal" day...

I went into the laundry room to discover the rat cage was occupied. Inside this metal fortress was the largest rat I had ever seen. He wore sunglasses and a spiked collar. A cigarette dangled rebelliously out of his mouth. On his bulging, muscular arm was a tattoo of a heart that read "I love Mom." His abs were like rocks.

I grinned. This creature was rendered harmless by his jail cell, and in my mind I gloated about his transition back into freedom mere minutes from that moment. Immediately he was given the name Bruno. Tough, large, vicious Bruno. But he was in the cage and I was out. Peace, joy, contentment. I envisioned his upcoming "release into freedom," and I smiled. Until...

Suddenly, Bruno flexed his muscles. I kid you not, he grabbed the door of the cage like the Incredible Hulk and twisted the door out of his way. A look of horror avalanched down my face. I was alone in this tiny room with an escaping Bruno. I turned to run out the door, but before I could flee, Bruno (who also had the same idea of escaping his prison through that same door) ran through my feet. In the tangle of panic, I kicked Bruno into the air like a soccer ball. It felt like I had kicked a full grown cat. Bruno flew gracefully through air. I screamed. My son came running to see the commotion and began laughing hysterically. Bruno landed with a massive thud and trotted away.

I will never forget the day I met Bruno. It was my brush with death.

I will also never forget the next morning as our loving canines, with joy and smiles, let me know that they had also met Bruno and played games with him.