Ferrets? Rats.

Many of our evenings lately consist of the same walk. The weather has been lovely; just on the edge of warm, with a nice breeze. The girls always get edgy by evening, and we're always happy to get out of the house. Lilly rides her bike, and Sophia alternates between pushing and riding in the blue stroller. We first ride down Wulumuqi - the picture of a Chinese street. People cut meat on large butcher blocks in the middle of the sidewalk. They sell live bullfrogs in styrofoam containers, big green blobs staring out through a thick net. The roast chickens still have their heads on, curled painfully upon themselves and with the eyes glaring open through bare heads. In the right mood, it is riotous and exciting. In the wrong mood, it is nauseating. This Is China.

We quickly turn down a lane. Too small for cars, this lane carries the odd bike passenger directly to their home. It connects one street to the next, but passes by the front doors of small apartment buildings and has a very low-key vibe to it. Listening, one can hear people practicing the piano, the quiet blare of a television set, someone dribbling a basketball by their front door. My children racing each other down the lane.

In one such race, Lilly were far ahead. We sat on a small step, waiting for Daddy and Sophia to catch up. As we waited, we sang a song, This Little Light of Mine, I'm gonna let it shine. Until I screamed.

It must have been a ferret, right? I remember having ferrets in our classroom in 6th grade. These things were long and skinny - their size and shape quite comparable to my arm, from elbow to fingertip. They were light colored and slinky. This must have been a ferret. Because my picture of a rat is short and stumpy, black and greasy, wild red eyes, and yellow teeth that hiss at you. Plus, there's just no way that rats the size of my arm are running around Shanghai, right?

Of course there are.

We hosted a party a few nights ago. One guest inadvertently left the porch door open for hours. This door opens directly onto my bedroom. As I lay in bed tonight, I couldn't help but see scurrying creatures out of the corner of my eye. The cockroaches are gone - praise God. But if they left to be replaced by rats the size of my arm, I will not last in this place. A person can only be tested so far before they move into a hotel.