Funny, private little creatures minding their own business, kind of like me.
I imagine a little rodent, dressed during the day in a tiny mid-18th century French gown, blue, enjoying haricots verts, waiting for nightfall, when she changes into the attire of a lady bandit... oh never mind. It's probably not so. But there is no proof, really, that she's just an ordinary rat. We do not know for sure.
Here's the thing...
Today I set out with Ed and Reub down the path.
I squinted...in the middle of the path which is used almost exclusively by myself and my dogs, and just 20 feet before we come to the rats' abodes...
...is a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer.
But I know this. That PBR was totally meant for me, no matter who left it. I wish to believe that it was offered by my friends, the Dusky-Footed Wood Rats. I don't know where they got it.