Goblin loves rats. She calls them “nighttime squirrels,” and one of her most triumphant moments in this lifetime was getting to lick one in Central Park. Rats can be nice. Rats spelled backward is STAR. But my neighbors use rats to enforce their fascistic tendencies. Do not let your dog poop in the alley or else there will be RATS. Do not leave garbage outside overnight or else there will be RATS. Do not paint your window frames that ghastly color or else there will be RATS. I picture the Wicked Witch of the West twirling around her garret room, launching her pretties out to punish an untidy world. “So, they’ll leave a pile of leaves on their back porch will they? Well, we’ll see about that!”

You know where this is going. Last night, Rob and I saw Ratatouille, a docudrama about a rat with high standards who was True To Himself and went on to Show Them All. He did this with help from an impressionable doofus, the tiny ghost of a famous chef, and Janeane Garofalo. The movie is absolutely enchanting, although I recommend you not see it sitting next to twelve toddlers who spend it sneaking out of their seats and meandering around the aisles.

Afterward, inspired by the rodent’s culinary delights, we went across the street to a fondue restaurant. I have never had fondue and was horrified to discover that one of the courses involved dunking raw meat into boiling cholesterol, two ingredients I spend my days actively avoiding. But I soldiered on because it was ultimately yummy, and if a rat can do it, I can, too. I may have liked the cheese course a bit better, though, because it came with celery and I could pretend it was healthier. Pretending can be nice. Pretending spelled backward is GNIDNETERP.

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(Following is a photo I took of the cheese fondue because it was yummy. More on this later.)