Oh rats

Got a terrifying text from my mom yesterday: "Is this a rat?" With an attached photo. Nervous, I opened it:

Hey little guy! I said mouse, but my mom's boyfriend says it's a kangaroo rat, and I guess he would know, being all science-y. Still - cute! My mom said he seemed injured and what should she do with it. I had no idea, but that was soon followed by a "he's dead" text. RIP. But then when I got home he was miraculously still alive, but seemed to have something wrong with him (wasn't moving much). And my mom has named him Timothy. Great. Hard to dispose of a rodent named Timothy. We were afraid a hawk (or a cat or my dog) would get to him, so my mom covered him up with a box. Not sure what the plan is at this point for Tiny Tim, but I doubt I will be adding a new pet to the current zoo that is my house. Sorry buddy.

UPDATE: perhaps the box idea was a bad one - Timmy did not survive. Now comes the fun game of who gets to scoop him up to dispose of him?? #notme