I heard a rat screaming as it died last night. Actually, the sounds were just three tiny squeaks or squeals. Yet, for some unknown reason, those pitiful cries of agony and terror pierced my heart. As my neighbor's dog, Cleo, bit savagely into its soft, furry belly. I felt the rat's fruitless five second struggle to fight back, to survive, to continue its existence, penetrating the very core of my being. Those five seconds changed my life.I've always hated and feared rats, regarding them as nature's most vile creatures. Along with fleas, mosquitoes and lice, I could never see any purpose for their existence. I don't mind mice because they too small to bother anyone, and besides, they are kinda cute; even Walt Disney thought so when he created Mickey. I can tolerate spiders because they eat flies and other creepy critters and keep the insect population under control. As annoying as they are, even flies have a purpose on the planet; if it weren't for them, we would be up to our knees in manure piles. I even respect rattlesnakes because they eat rats! Basically, I have had respect for and understanding of every creature on our planet, except for the rat. I have always hated rats!Cleo is an excellent rat killer, and in the past, I always felt glad when I found the dead varmints she killed. A feeling of satisfaction would go through me, and I felt a little safer in the world. However, this was the first time I ever actually witnessed the act of killing, and I felt no satisfaction. This time, I felt only the pain and fear and horror and despair involved in the process of dying, and I came to the stark realization that those feelings must be the same for all living creatures, whether rat or human. For the first time in my life, I felt sympathy and sorrow for an animal I had previously despised. I felt empathy for this simple creature who, one moment, was alive and healthy and going about his business and the next moment, was not. And most of all, I felt a mental and spiritual connection with him for about five seconds while this individual animal suffered and knew his life was about to end. If he didn't know, why did he cry out? As loudly as is possible for so tiny a voice box, this creature screamed. If there was no awareness of what was happening, why did he scream?The strange psychic connection I experienced with the rat for that brief time quickly evolved into an extraordinary sense of oneness with all other beings in the universe. I felt the same awe and reverence for life and death as I did the first time I attended a performance. I remembered the line, "Wasn't life wonderful and awful?" and that the simplest things in life were the most important and to be cherished. I thanked my Creator for giving me the wonderful experience of just being alive and being aware of life.I also thought of my own mortality and of the moment when my existence on earth will end. Death itself doesn't frighten me. I believe I'll go on to a better world, a higher level of existence; but the process of dying, of suffering does. Woody Allen once said, "I'm not afraid of death; I just don't want to be there when it happens." I had always envisioned myself simply being alive one moment , then dead the next, with no transition time; sort of like a switching of channels on a cosmic television set. Last night, I was stuck with the full reality that the process may involve a period of time and that I, like the rat, may experience a vivid awareness of that process. Will I shriek in agony and terror? Will I fight to remain alive? Will I cry out to my God, "No! Let me stay a little longer!"? And, will my screams be heard by other beings as just tiny squeaks and my existence perceived as meaningless or even detrimental? Will they be glad I'm dead, or worse yet, pay no attention whatsoever? Or will they feel the process with me, my screams piercing their hearts? Will anyone experience what I did when I heard the screaming of the rat?