Rats!

So, more reptilian drama. Wait, reptilian is probably the wrong adjective, although I think it sounds good. Anyway, I was carrying my waffle iron into the bathroom to see if there was room in our rarely used closet, the one where my dad has huge stacks of legal cases that he can’t throw out on behalf of his former clients. I opened the door and thought I saw a nice area where I could slide in my waffle iron, but then there was movement, and I realized I’d been staring directly into the eyes of a rat.

I shrieked and slammed the closet door as the rat turned tail and disappeared into the upper woodwork somewhere.

Exiting the bathroom, I gazed at my dad, who was watching his political programs, and waited politely for him to hit the mute button and address me thusly: “Is something wrong? I believe I heard a shout.” No, really?! 

“There’s a rat! A mean, sinister little creature lurking about in our bathroom closet. His beady eyes were terrifying.”

Image (c) Pixabay @ GDJ

rat-g45ec56330_1280

He seemed undisturbed.

“Oh, dear,” I said, thinking aloud. “Some of LuLu’s dog food is in that closet.”

“What’s it doing in there?” my dad asked.

“It’s just waiting for there to be room in her huge bins of food that we keep on the refrigerator,” I explained. “I think the rat was feeding on it, and doing other dirty rat things. Oh, God.” I frowned.

“Well, get the dog food out of the closet and put it on the refrigerator. There’s room now, right?”

I looked at him like he’d grown a third ear. “Are you kidding?! I’m not going back into that closet! No! No! If you want to valiantly free the dog food, then go for it, but I’m not going back into that closet!”

He rolled his eyes.

So, that’s where we are now. Rats!

At one point when we first moved into this house, which was nearly thirty years ago, there was a huge rat living in our basement. My dad called in animal control, and they gave us some poison that they guaranteed would kill the rat dead. But I don’t think they believed us when we described how big the rat was. Maybe they’re used to hearing exaggerations? It looked like this:

image-1-rous

The only effect the poison had on this vicious monster in our basement was to gently sedate it. Not kidding. But the rat became barely lethargic enough to allow us to catch him in a huge sleeping bag and release him in the nearby swamps.

(Okay, I’ll confess that I dipped into fantasy somewhere in that narration. I’m not sure where, though! HA HA! The lines between fantasy and reality blurred. Oh well.)

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