Most of you know Sneezy and Bashful to be two of Disney’s
seven dwarfs. To our family, however, they were our adorable pet rats (except
for the ugly wormlike tails they drug behind them).
Last year, on a
rainy, dark day we buried them. Their short lived lives came to an end after loving
them for only two years. The rats were best loved by my ten year old daughter
Marissa. We often talk about them and remember Sneezy and Bashful in all of
their cuteness, until last night.
At about 12:30 I hear rustling around in one of my daughters’
bedrooms. I get up to check it out. (they are supposed to be sleeping in our 2
story, 12x10 playhouse) I walk into Marissa’s room to find her with a worried
look on her face and my older daughter, Cambria consoling her. “What’s wrong?” I inquire. Cambria explains the situation, “We’ve heard noises the last couple of times in the
playhouse and Marissa thinks it’s Sneezy
and Bashful’s spirits!” (I make a mental note: restrict T.V. viewing—too much
can be detrimental to MY sleep!)
I patiently explain, “Marissa, Sneezy and Bashful are with
Jesus,” which sounds perfectly logical for me to say at 12:30 in the morning
but as I realize, in hind site, is equally humorous. I’m not sure which is more
comical, rats haunting our playhouse or a picture of Jesus holding our pet rats
as the scamper about upon his lap.