Emile spent a lot of time thinking about his conversation with Dirk Gently and Fiver. Rats... as pets? It seemed so strange. In France, humans (with just a couple of exceptions) seemed hellbent on exterminating his kind. Why would any keep them as pets?

He decided to investigate this further by sneaking into a nearby pet shop. The owners had a cat, but they took it home with them for the night. A wall of bubbling aquariums lit the store in an unearthly blue glow.

Emile carefully scuttled across the ground. He could smell snakes, but they were safely in their cages. A parakeet mumbled something, its head stuck under its wing.

Then, he heard the repetitive squeaking of metal, high up on a shelf. He climbed up it, and came face-to-face with a cage. A wheel was turning inside.

The squeaking stopped. Two beady eyes glowed in the shadows.

"Yo, bra. Spot me, will ya?"

"...excuse me?" Emile warily approached the bars. A fuzzy hamster was inside the cage, doing some stretches. "I'm gonna do some pull-ups on the bars, work on my lats. Spot me?"

"Uh... okay." Emile watched as the hamster climbed up to the top of the cage, hung on for as long as he could, then dropped back down to the ground.

"Man, I need some water." The hamster ran over to his water bottle and took a few hurried gulps. "So, bra. Looks like you could use a workout."

Emile frowned and tried to suck in his gut a little. "I'm just here to see what's it like to be a pet."

"Oh, man, it's great!" The hamster replied, returning to his wheel. "Free food, free water, all the cardboard I can chew."

"Do you ever get out?"

"Sometimes I get to run in a ball, but I dunno. I don't think it works my quads enough." The hamster sped up on the wheel.

Emile thanked him for his time and ran off as quickly as he could.

Once upon a time, a rat became the chief of his den. He had several mates, and many children. He loved all his pups, but some of them required more attention than others.

One of his sons, Remi, had a remarkable gift. His sense of smell and taste was far better than anyone else in the den. The Chief relied on him to test the food brought in, to determine if it was safe to eat or not.

Unfortunately, Remi also had a tendency to wander. He'd sneak off and spend hours playing with wild herbs and mushrooms. Sometimes he'd even sneak into a human's house or garden. It didn't matter how many times The Chief warned him how dangerous it was.

Another of his sons, Emile, had the opposite problem. He'd eat anything. But he was very obedient, and loyal to his family. Emile lived to please.

One day, The Chief took Emile aside. "Son, I need to ask you something. How do you feel about Remi?"

Emile beamed. "Oh! I love him, Dad. He's a great brother."

"He's a good kid, Son. But he doesn't always listen to me. I want you to do me a favor." He crouched down so he could look Emile in the eyes. "I want you to keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays out of trouble. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, Dad!" Emile smiled proudly, then ran off to find his brother.

The Chief watched his pups play, and learn, and grow. Emile tried his best to keep Remi safe, and Remi tried his best to keep Emile from eating dirt. Best of all, they got along, just like brothers should.

"This really doesn't seem like a good idea, Remi..." It was very rare for Emile to show any sort of trepidation, particularly when food was involved, but the contraption before him made him very nervous. "Can't you just cook the turkey in an oven?"

"I want to see what all the fuss is about," his brother replied, scurrying about the pressure cooker. "Deep fried turkey. The Americans are all over it."

"Uh-huh." Emile washed his whiskers uneasily. "It still looks a little unstable. Can't you get your human friends to help you."

Remi waved a pink paw dismissively. "They're on a date. Okay, things look just about ready! Emile can you adjust that knob up there."

The significantly plumper rat scrawled to the top of the machine. "This one?" Tentatively, he turned it, then felt an unsettling rumble beneath him. "Uh, I don't think it's--"

A few Parisians would later remark on the strange sight of a small, furry animal riding a turkey rocket straight into the sky, but none of them heard the squeaky "AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!" that accompanied it.