The brain is a very strange organ*

Do you ever get that situation where you see something, briefly, out of the corner of your eye, and are convinced that it's something completely different?

Just a few moments ago, I was down in the kitchen feeding the dogs, and as I looked around I could have sworn there was a dead rat on the counter by the chopping boards. When I looked again, properly, it turned out to be nothing more than several bulbs of Porcelain Garlic sitting in a stainless steel spoon rest. And yet for an instant long enough for me to resolve detail, I had seen a dead rat, with brown mottled fur, spiky pink claws and a long stringy tail, curled up in a ball as if it were asleep.

Now before you all think me insane, I think there is a certain logic in this. The human brain is one great big pattern-matching machine, and when presented with minimal information - a hurried glance, or a view obscured by rain, say - it does it's best to find a good fit.

Why the rat, though? I hear you ask.

Well, earlier this evening, young Mistress Buddug was acting rather strangely at the bottom of the stairs. This is her usual killing arena, where she brings in small furry creatures and taunts them to death (or until I catch them and put them outside for her to bring in again). As it happened, this time she was just being a cat, and no small furry things were involved. But the most memorable thing she has brought in recently was a dead rat, it's fur brown and mottled, its claws spiky and pink, it's tail like a waxy, slippery bit of string.

So when I saw her bad-catting, I remembered the rat - not consciously, but it was brought out of the archive in my head and put in the 'might be useful' room.

Then when I saw an innocent pile of garlic, warped by the edge of my spectacles and only glimpsed briefly, the little men in my head dealing with degraded signals went to the 'might be useful' room and came out with the dead rat.

A dead rat, when found in conjunction with the concept of 'kitchen' is a high-priority signal, so the little man with the rat directed the little man in charge of my eyes to look again, and see if they couldn't get a better signal. They knew that the little men in motor control were going to be a bit peeved if they had to deal with festering rodents, so it would be wise to double check before doing anything else. The signal came back 'garlic and spoon rest' this time, so the alarm was stilled.

Either that or I've been putting crushed dead rat into my aves con chilli.

Which nonsense puts me in mind of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, and one of his more memorable poems, which, by the magic of the intarwub, I don't even have to type out from memory. I give you The Mad Gardener's Song:

He thought he saw an Elephant,
That practised on a fife:
He looked again, and found it was
A letter from his wife.
'At length I realise,' he said,
The bitterness of Life!'

He thought he saw a Buffalo
Upon the chimney-piece:
He looked again, and found it was
His Sister's Husband's Niece.
'Unless you leave this house,' he said,
"I'll send for the Police!'

He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
The Middle of Next Week.
'The one thing I regret,' he said,
'Is that it cannot speak!'

He thought he saw a Banker's Clerk
Descending from the bus:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hippopotamus.
'If this should stay to dine,' he said,
'There won't be much for us!'

He thought he saw a Kangaroo
That worked a coffee-mill:
He looked again, and found it was
A Vegetable-Pill.
'Were I to swallow this,' he said,
'I should be very ill!'

He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bear without a Head.
'Poor thing,' he said, 'poor silly thing!
It's waiting to be fed!'

He thought he saw an Albatross
That fluttered round the lamp:
He looked again, and found it was
A Penny-Postage Stamp.
'You'd best be getting home,' he said:
'The nights are very damp!'

He thought he saw a Garden-Door
That opened with a key:
He looked again, and found it was
A Double Rule of Three:
'And all its mystery,' he said,
'Is clear as day to me!'

He thought he saw a Argument
That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
A Bar of Mottled Soap.
'A fact so dread,' he faintly said,
'Extinguishes all hope!'

-- Lewis Carroll

*But not the largest in the body. Can anyone tell me what is? The prize for the first right answer is one dead rat. But you'll have to come and collect it.