So after the trauma of our first rat encounter, I reset the trap and no hits for two weeks. I was up for morning coffee and on the phone with a co-worker when my daughter appeared and said ‘We need to talk’. Uh, oh. where is this headed? I imagined the worse but what I didn’t expect to hear is – there’s a rat in the trap and there’s one a lot bigger roaming. He’s black and he’s big.
Now I don’t have an immaculate house by any means but. by god, we aren’t living in a barn here! I am immediately on the phone with my pest control guy from work. Ok, his humour and mine about pests is ‘it is what it is’. He is giving me helpful tips – seal off the areas they are coming in, spray bleach around the parameter, set traps…blah, blah,blah. He has no idea this house is 138 years old and has a million entry points.
So I phone him after the second incident and tell him to bring more traps and tell him my plan of action. He’s a little concerned when I am prepared to spray the entire basement with bleach.
“Well, I don’t want you conking yourself out from the fumes” he explains.
“Why? So they aren’t eating my carcass?” I reply.
“Well, you know, it’s another food source…”
Rats carry more stigma than any other rodent. I secreted the trapped rat down the yard and tossed it over the fence with the dogs jumping at my catch. They don’t get stealth. If questioned I was prepared to say I had trapped and killed a cute little chipmunk and was willing to face the wrath because the prejudice of a rat in my home far outweighed the backlash of killing a much more beloved, cuter rodent.
I am on a mission. I have suddenly become a mason. It’s amazing how good you can be at something when you are motivated. This afternoon I started re-cementing the foundation and sealing the cracks. That’s really fucking hard work! Those little bags weigh a lot and they don’t go very far but I managed to finish off a small section and it looks pretty damn smart.
I decided to take a break on the riding mower and cut the grass. Just about ran over a big Garter snake and a wee munchkin garter. I have seen 2 snakes in ten years on this property. This year there is an entire family and there has been a dozen sightings. Don’t they eat rodents!? What kind of pussy ant snakes am I harbouring here? I finally stopped the tractor and started screaming at one of them. “Get in that house and do your goddamn job!!”
Pretty sure we just have one evil malcontent here that is wise to the trap. I played the last scene of the movie “Ben” for my daughter since I have been hearing the song over and over in my head. In all sickness, she has been fantasizing about creating a facebook profile for the lone rouge. She considered creating a few others and having them all send me facebook friend requests and liking my foodie pictures.
What kind of twisted shit is this!!?
Now she wonders how I can even kill the rogue after watching Ben. Oh I can, trust me!.