A ‘rat-ical’ Muni experience
This isn’t exactly like the last time we documented a mouse on Muni. Just ask an unnamed Muni Diaries editor, who refused to put this post together due to acute heebie-jeebies.
Rats on Muni are like hair. In the right context, hair is lovely, worthy of a positive anecdote with a smile. Personally/as coping mechanism, I like to envision this fella more like Remy in Ratatouille, attempting to make his mark in an intensely culinary part of the world. And look at that face. lookatthatface.
In the wrong context — like, I dunno, when a rat gets loose in a New York City subway train — it is the absolute worst thing ever.
Where do you fall? While you noodle on that, consume some heebie-jeebies antibiotics, including: a cat on a leash at a Muni stop, stone-cold iguanas giving zero fucks on the bus, and the living, breathing representation of a Google search for “happiest dog in the whole wide world.”