So I took a life today

[Loc Nar]

I didn't intend to, but I didn't shy away from it either. You see, we had an issue in our basement with a pesky rat. We knew we had at least one down in the basement a few weeks ago. The little black Pez dispenser rat droppings on the basement stairs and scattered around the basement floor's nooks and crannies told the tale. My wife and I did not hesitate to bring in the pros - spared no expense. A wiry rat whisperer arrived promptly, went down to the basement, and scoped the scene. "Ya got a rat and breaches in yer perimeter," he said. He walked my wife and I around the outside of our house and showed us that we had a few ground level basement iron grates that AC tubing, power lines and what not ran through, and the grates had large holes that were not screened off. "A rat can usually fit in anything it can squeeze its head through, and a rat can swan dive through those holes," he said. "You need to screen those grates off." "Damn right," I said, "Get 'er done."

"Even after we screen everything off, he might still be down there," Willard cautioned in a lowered tone while looking down towards the basement. "I gotchu." He went to his van and came back with a couple glue traps the size of AC floor registers and snap traps that looked like Vader's Hungry Hippos when armed. He told us he usually catches a rat on the first night's try. But my wife stopped him short and vetoed the glue traps - you see, she didn't want to hear any squealin' in the middle of the night if a rat got stuck. Willard made a scrunched up face, but I understood where she was coming from and wondered what Willard's batting average was with just snap traps. So the glue traps went back to the van. Willard judiciously set baited snap traps near the most dense rat poo scattergrams and slunk away.

Next morning, I go down to check the traps and sure as shit we caught one - the rat (a big gooner) went full ham on the bait in the trap and the snap trap broke its back - a clean kill. We celebrated, called Willard and told him he got a bingo. Absolutely made his day. I'm sure he whispered about it at work, and maybe during Happy Hour. The next day, my wife and I cleaned the basement, the basement stairs, everything - we swept up every Pez dropping, patted ourselves on the back, and thought that was it, sweet summer children that we were.

A week goes by. I head down the stairs to the basement to lug a spare gallon of milk to the basement fridge, and stop at the second stair. "Is that rat poo," I asked myself., "Fresh rat poo?" "f**k yeah, it is," I told myself. We call "the pros" again. They come out and conduct another perimeter sweep. It turns out the knucklehead who installed the screens around the basement grates just cut big holes around the pipes and tubing that went through the iron grates, more than big enough for a rat head to poke through, without further sealing the gaps around the pipes - with plastic foam. Willard acknowledged that, yeah, his team left gaps a rat could get through. He was not happy. They sent a guy around armed with some sort of plasticene thrower and filled the gaps in all of the screen holes around the basement grate pipes. I told my wife to ask the dude how long the plastic foam lasts, and he said he did not know. Lovely.

Little did we know, Rorschach was with us. The first tell tale sign was the discovery of a chewed up brand new RTIC cooler. I then noticed a box of chicken broth on a spare pantry shelf had been gnawed, as were two bags of tortilla chips (they were on sale - 4 bags for $5). My wife and I then made a concerted effort to remove all food from the basement. This was war and the siege had begun. I had a heart to heart talk with my wife and told her glue traps were being thrown down. She did not object. We called Willard back, and set up a minefield in the basement.

See next post.

 

[Loc Nar]

Two nights later (about a week ago), my wife swore she heard skittering in an AC vent. A few nights later, I heard a loud metallic clunk around 4 a.m., like a metal baking pan sliding to a counter, but I drifted off back to sleep. I'm an early riser, and the next night I got up at 4:30 a.m., because I had to get to the office early and I'll be damned if I'm going to give up my one hour of breakfast Internet and theineosforum.com browsing time. I quietly walk down a dark hall to get to our Dining Room, with Nola - our faithful toy Australian Shepherd, following behind. I get to the Dining Room and turn on the chandelier after closing the hall door behind me (missus needs her beauty sleep). I let Nola out to do her business and return to the kitchen and check the fridge for options. That's when I hear the pitter patter of something moving at a jog through our dining room. I look over there and see nothing, but I do see the leaves of a floor plant in our adjacent Living Room shaking in a manner that would not be caused by AC. Something just disturbed it. Time to call in back up.

I grab a flashlight, let Nola in, and tell her there's a "squirrel" in the house - she knows that word and flares up when hearing it. Nola thinks she's an alpha dog. In our back or front yard, she chases the hell out of chipmunks, squirrels, possum, birds, and cats whenever she sees them, and she does not even like most dogs. Great with kids and people though. So, anyway, we go on patrol.

I walk Nola to the plant that moved, she sniffs it intently and then paces carefully towards our gas fireplace sniffing the floor all the way. She leans as far forward as she can, without committing herself mind you, and sniffs under the logs, he back leg shaking. I shine the flashlight to help her out and see that a metal plate under the logs, which was a cover for the hole for the gas line, has been shifted up at an angle, which created a more than big enough hole for a rat head to get through. Immediately, I realized what the metallic clunking sound was that I heard a few nights ago.

Realizing Rorschach escaped that night, I reset the metal plate and put a brick on it to cover the small gap for the gas line to prevent it from being lifted again.

And that, dear friends, brings us to this morning. I once again had a very busy day lined up and had to get up early. I rouse around 4:15 a.m. Realizing that this could be an active time for Rorschach, I grab my flashlight, flick it on, and shuffle down the hall toward the Dining Room scanning as I go. Nola, as usual, is in tow. All looks good on the way to the Dining Room. I go into the Kitchen, open the fridge, and pull out the eggs and some leftovers to make Chorizo potato egg breakfast burritos with Gruyere cheese and salsa. It's gonna be a golden day. I toss some butter in a skillet and set it to low. It's too early to let Nola out - I'm worried she will bark as she sometimes does, which would piss off the neighbors.

I go ahead and toss some food in her bowl and refill her water, but she just sits in the kitchen and looks at me - too early to eat. It happened when I stood back up from setting Nola's water bowl down. A furry grey blur darted out from under our stove, yes, the stove I had just been standing in front of, and tore towards the dining room. The skittering was audible. I looked over at Nola, who remained stationary. My face told her, "Did you just see that?!" Her face answered, "I didn't see a got damn thing! Whatchoo gonna do about it?" f**k. Alpha dog, my ass. I turned off the skillet.

I crept through the Dining Room with my flashlight, entreating Nola to follow me. She did, eventually. I motioned to her to sniff out under couches and chairs. She knew we were on the hunt and went through the motions, albeit cautiously. We could not find shit. I checked the fireplace and the brick was in place. So, Rorschach went somewhere else. I was hoping he did not go down the hall to our bedroom . . .

I ultimately figured he found some bolt hole back to our basement. So, unbelievably I'm sure, I returned to the kitchen to continue making breakfast. I assembled a beautiful burrito and tossed an egg into the skillet and started breaking it up. That's when I started to hear gnawing. Oh, I knew who it was. It sounded like Rorschach was chewing something hard - sheetrock or wood or hard plastic. Once again, I killed the burner, and crept towards the Dining Room. The sound was not in the Dining Room, but it was close by. I gingerly opened the hall door and that's when I was able to triangulate the signal - it was coming from the hall closet. I looked around but Nola was nowhere to be found.

I flicked on the hall lights, because I did not want that bastard scooting out into the hall at the moment. I then summoned my wife in my most commanding voice, "Wake up, I need your help, I have the rat cornered!" I think I had to yell this about four times before getting a response. She comes out bleary eyed and bare footed, wholly unprepared for battle.

I fill her in and we develop our battle plan. I stand guard at the hall door with the flashlight and a broom I picked up and she goes down to the basement to retrieve three glue traps to put in front of the hall closet door. Check. I then hand her the flashlight and go down and retrieve a couple snap traps, because when you put three glue traps end to end, you get two plastic "safe travel" isthmuses and I wanted to place the snap traps at the end of each. So, we did all that and waited.

See next post.

 

[Loc Nar]

Whenever we got quiet, Rorschach started chewing again - raspy, crunchy chews. Credit to my wife - she said, "It's trying to chew it's way out of the closet to get to the basement." "Shit, this is some Shawshank Redemption shit," I thought to myself. We now faced a dilemma. It's about 4:45 a.m. Willard and the rest of the "pros" are fast asleep rubbing their whiskers and won't be reachable until 8 a.m., at the earliest. How long does it take a rat to chew through sheetrock, wood floors, etc.? My wife and I consulted and agreed that it was probably less than three hours. Shit.

"We have to do something," my wife said. "All right then," I said, "we're going to combat. Get some socks and shoes on, and go get me a bunch of our dog towels." When she came back with the towels and shoes on, I gave her the flashlight and broom to stand guard by the hall closet and I went to go put my socks and shoes on and went to the shed to get a short shovel. It's about to be on like Donkey Kong.

When I returned to the hall, I collected the towels, shut all the hall doors, and shoved the towels under the cracks under the doors to prevent any opportunity for Rorschach to slip under. We had stairs in the hall leading to the kids' bedroom upstairs, two of which were occupied. My wife asked, "What if the rat goes upstairs?" Good question. I went to retrieve a large piece of foam board in the basement we used to use to keep dogs from going upstairs and put it in place.

All right, now that the kiddos were safe, it's game time. I position my wife on the stairs with the flashlight pointed towards the hall closet door. The hall light is on, but the flashlight is pretty damn powerful (shocker, right?) and gives a boost. I hold the short shovel in my left hand and tell my wife to get ready. I slowly slide the traps out of the way of the hall closet door, and strategically position a glue trap and snap trap at the closed hall door leading to the dining room (away from where I'm standing) and position the remaining glue traps and snap trap nearby, but not so close I would step on them. We have not heard chewing from the closet in a while with all of our chatter going on.

I carefully open the closet with my left hand while holding the shovel with my right. Not gonna lie - heart was thumping.

See next post.

 

[Loc Nar]

I see nothing. There are two wicker boxes on the floor of the closet and linen shelves above. I move the closest box out into the hall. "There it is!" my wife shouts. "Where?!" I see nothing. "In the front left corner!"

Then I see it - the furry grey outline of the rat's body in the near left corner of the closet, but I don't see the head. It's as if the rat was burying it's head in the corner, Blair Witch style. I then realize and see it's trying to squeeze through a hole in the corner of the floor and has been chewing on the hole to try to widen it. It's just too fat to get through right now (Tortilla chips for the win!). I had no idea the hole was there or what its purpose was.

So I started blasting - repeatedly stabbing Rorschach with the shovel. He twisted, flopped, screeched, and then ran behind the other wicker box still in the closet. I shoved the box against him, attempting to pin him to the back of the closet. Then I started ramming the shovel behind the box to attack him. That was not working. I then pulled the box forward to expose him and started slamming the flat head of the shovel at him - not particularly accurately I must admit. Some blows, however, landed true and stunned him briefly. He then rightsized himself and ran out of the closet toward me.

Fucking hell. I started to jump up, then he turned tail and ran down the hall away from me towards the Dining Room. He went between the glue trap and snap trap to try to squeeze under the door, but the towel defense held true and blocked him. Frantic, he rebounded and started to head back towards me, but it was then he made his fatal mistake, On his rebound, he accidentally placed a foot in the snap trap which slammed with righteous thunder and held him fast. He started flopping around dragging the snap trap around and managed to flop over onto the glue trap. Game over.

My wife started freaking out at this point and beat a hasty retreat. I picked up another glue trap and slapped it on Rorschach. Can never be too careful. He squealed when I did that, and I felt bad about that, truly, but war, war never changes.

For the cleanup phase, I decided that rather than beating Rorschach to death with the shovel in the backyard, I would fill a bucket with water and drown him. It at least seemed more humane to me, because God knows, I was not effective at beating him previously. I filled the bucket, went to get the glue snap trap ball he had become, and it appeared that he had already passed - perhaps from a heart attack? I dunked him for a while anyway just to be sure.

And that's how I started my day today. Still awake twenty some odd hours later. I wonder why?

 

[DaBull]

I see nothing. There are two wicker boxes on the floor of the closet and linen shelves above. I move the closest box out into the hall. "There it is!" my wife shouts. "Where?!" I see nothing. "In the front left corner!"

Then I see it - the furry grey outline of the rat's body in the near left corner of the closet, but I don't see the head. It's as if the rat was burying it's head in the corner, Blair Witch style. I then realize and see it's trying to squeeze through a hole in the corner of the floor and has been chewing on the hole to try to widen it. It's just too fat to get through right now (Tortilla chips for the win!). I had no idea the hole was there or what its purpose was.

So I started blasting - repeatedly stabbing Rorschach with the shovel. He twisted, flopped, screeched, and then ran behind the other wicker box still in the closet. I shoved the box against him, attempting to pin him to the back of the closet. Then I started ramming the shovel behind the box to attack him. That was not working. I then pulled the box forward to expose him and started slamming the flat head of the shovel at him - not particularly accurately I must admit. Some blows, however, landed true and stunned him briefly. He then rightsized himself and ran out of the closet toward me.

Fucking hell. I started to jump up, then he turned tail and ran down the hall away from me towards the Dining Room. He went between the glue trap and snap trap to try to squeeze under the door, but the towel defense held true and blocked him. Frantic, he rebounded and started to head back towards me, but it was then he made his fatal mistake, On his rebound, he accidentally placed a foot in the snap trap which slammed with righteous thunder and held him fast. He started flopping around dragging the snap trap around and managed to flop over onto the glue trap. Game over.

My wife started freaking out at this point and beat a hasty retreat. I picked up another glue trap and slapped it on Rorschach. Can never be too careful. He squealed when I did that, and I felt bad about that, truly, but war, war never changes.

For the cleanup phase, I decided that rather than beating Rorschach to death with the shovel in the backyard, I would fill a bucket with water and drown him. It at least seemed more humane to me, because God knows, I was not effective at beating him previously. I filled the bucket, went to get the glue snap trap ball he had become, and it appeared that he had already passed - perhaps from a heart attack? I dunked him for a while anyway just to be sure.

And that's how I started my day today. Still awake twenty some odd hours later. I wonder why?

Thanks Loc Nar, Not sure I am going to get a good nights sleep after reading this. LOL. DaBull

 

[Loc Nar]

As a small update, my wife and I spent all day yesterday cleaning out the basement. During that process, my nose told me we might have bagged another. Sure enough, after cleaning some boxes out of the way, I found a rat with a large snap trap pinned around a back leg and his head clamped in a small snap trap. Not sure how he managed to do that, but I'm thankful he did. After clearing all that away, today's basement walkthrough revealed no new captured rats. We may be in the clear, or they may be getting cagier . . .

 

[Stu_Barnes]

Dude, this reminds me of the Lovecraft story “the rats in the walls”

"The Rats in the Walls" by H. P. Lovecraft

'The Rats in the Walls' by H. P. Lovecraft

www.hplovecraft.com

Also I have a murder cat you can borrow. She’s a ruthless and efficient pest controller. Looks like a lady and is death walking for any rat or mouse. She had a gopher last week. Anyway, enough of my hijacking this thread.

 

[Catpaw4x4]

As a small update, my wife and I spent all day yesterday cleaning out the basement. During that process, my nose told me we might have bagged another. Sure enough, after cleaning some boxes out of the way, I found a rat with a large snap trap pinned around a back leg and his head clamped in a small snap trap. Not sure how he managed to do that, but I'm thankful he did. After clearing all that away, today's basement walkthrough revealed no new captured rats. We may be in the clear, or they may be getting cagier . . .

A very good short story!!

 

[Loc Nar]

Dude, this reminds me of the Lovecraft story “the rats in the walls”

"The Rats in the Walls" by H. P. Lovecraft

'The Rats in the Walls' by H. P. Lovecraft

www.hplovecraft.com

Also I have a murder cat you can borrow. She’s a ruthless and efficient pest controller. Looks like a lady and is death walking for any rat or mouse. She had a gopher last week. Anyway, enough of my hijacking this thread.

Much appreciated. I will read it with great interest. Love me some H.P. Lovecraft. I already bet he wished he had glue traps.

 

[trobex]

I see nothing. There are two wicker boxes on the floor of the closet and linen shelves above. I move the closest box out into the hall. "There it is!" my wife shouts. "Where?!" I see nothing. "In the front left corner!"

Then I see it - the furry grey outline of the rat's body in the near left corner of the closet, but I don't see the head. It's as if the rat was burying it's head in the corner, Blair Witch style. I then realize and see it's trying to squeeze through a hole in the corner of the floor and has been chewing on the hole to try to widen it. It's just too fat to get through right now (Tortilla chips for the win!). I had no idea the hole was there or what its purpose was.

So I started blasting - repeatedly stabbing Rorschach with the shovel. He twisted, flopped, screeched, and then ran behind the other wicker box still in the closet. I shoved the box against him, attempting to pin him to the back of the closet. Then I started ramming the shovel behind the box to attack him. That was not working. I then pulled the box forward to expose him and started slamming the flat head of the shovel at him - not particularly accurately I must admit. Some blows, however, landed true and stunned him briefly. He then rightsized himself and ran out of the closet toward me.

Fucking hell. I started to jump up, then he turned tail and ran down the hall away from me towards the Dining Room. He went between the glue trap and snap trap to try to squeeze under the door, but the towel defense held true and blocked him. Frantic, he rebounded and started to head back towards me, but it was then he made his fatal mistake, On his rebound, he accidentally placed a foot in the snap trap which slammed with righteous thunder and held him fast. He started flopping around dragging the snap trap around and managed to flop over onto the glue trap. Game over.

My wife started freaking out at this point and beat a hasty retreat. I picked up another glue trap and slapped it on Rorschach. Can never be too careful. He squealed when I did that, and I felt bad about that, truly, but war, war never changes.

For the cleanup phase, I decided that rather than beating Rorschach to death with the shovel in the backyard, I would fill a bucket with water and drown him. It at least seemed more humane to me, because God knows, I was not effective at beating him previously. I filled the bucket, went to get the glue snap trap ball he had become, and it appeared that he had already passed - perhaps from a heart attack? I dunked him for a while anyway just to be sure.

And that's how I started my day today. Still awake twenty some odd hours later. I wonder why?

Penguin Books - new best seller!

 

[Catpaw4x4]

Penguin Books - new best seller!

Keep the current title? Or what would you say ??
Could stuff it in every G glove box!

 

[bigleonski]

Keep the current title? Or what would you say ??
Could stuff it in every G glove box!

Hmmmm I’m not sure the Grenadier glovebox is big enough to fit a book in it.

 

[Jeremy996]

Hmmmm I’m not sure the Grenadier glovebox is big enough to fit a book in it.

Only if you take the handbook out first.

 

[Tazzieman]

Hmmmm I’m not sure the Grenadier glovebox is big enough to fit a book in it.

Haven't you heard of e-books?
Enough for a whole library on a USB stick thingy!

 

[FieldMonster]

My wife started freaking out at this point and beat a hasty retreat. I picked up another glue trap and slapped it on Rorschach. Can never be too careful.

This was my favourite part. Truly a new Hunter S Thompson for our time.

 

[Loc Nar]

"Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Tonight that is true, finally - at last . . . I think. As a small follow up, and in reference to post #6 above, yeah . . . they got cagier, they got a lot cagier

After taking care of not one but two of the buggers, those remaining persisted in finding anything they could to gnaw on. My next loss was my prized stock of five 16 oz. containers of Nesquick No Sugar Added Chocolate Flavored Powder. - BEST CHOCOLATE MILK EVER! I forgot I had them stored on top of a cabinet. They gnawed through the plastic of four of the five containers (and damn right, I wiped down and saved the fifth).

I first discovered they were down there by noticing Rat Pez Pellets near the cabinet on the floor. I then looked up and noticed the battered Nesquick containers - looked like extras from Dawn of the Dead. I stood on my tiptoes and saw more pellets on top of the cabinet. Great.

So, I told my wife, "I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It's the only way to be sure." My sweet, sweet critter-loving wife, who, as you may recall, was initially opposed to glue traps, gathered her thoughts and said, "Goddamn right."

So, we escalated to baited poison traps round the perimeter - the pest control version of the WWII M18A1 Claymore mine - "Face Toward Enemy" - and so we did. A few nights later I saw Rat Pez pellets on our basement stair - all the way to the top stair and even on the door sill(!), but this time, it was greenish-blue, reflective in a flashlight. "Strange," I thought, and when I swept them up into the dustbin, they clattered like hard plastic. We consulted Willard and he confirmed, "Yeah, greenish-blue pellets means they've eaten the poisoned bait." "Awesome," I replied, and then I hoped the poison-gorged rats made it out of my basement from whichever way they came in to their nearby bolthole to expire. No smell of death in the basement so far. So, I got that going for me.

We also have not seen any Chipmunks in a while, but I told my wife I'm sure they're nestled down and snuggled in for their winter hibernation.