As I mentioned the other day, I’m working on a story about my rat raising days. I remembered that I did rescue a lone rat from the mazes and made a pet of her, but at first I couldn’t remember her name. You have to remember that rats only live about three years, so she wasn’t a lifelong companion or anything. I now recall I named her Zelda. I was reading a lot of Fitzgerald at the time. I’m not sure why Zelda seemed to fit. She was small, pretty, and slender—the perfect flapper. I also remember that F. Scott ripped off pages from her diary and used them in his fiction. Not unlike the rat runners using up the rats’ lives to explain their own obsessions?

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