Sunday, January 07, 2007


Killing and Dy(e)ing

My post titles are getting cornier by the day. The minute, even. And yet, I feel no shame.

Mister Rat (who turned out not to be a mouse but instead a rather large rat) is dead. Very, very dead. I killed him with a trap, and although I feel some remorse for the actual slaughter, it was fast.

Well, I killed him twice, actually, but the first time he didn't notice.

I went out and bought a rat trap (just in case it really WAS a rat and not a mouse, as I had been hoping) and bated it with peanut butter. I went out and when I returned there was the trap, unsprung, but completely denuded of the aforementioned vile peanut-based spread. (Chunky, in case you're wondering what the discerning rat is reqesting these days. Although I don't know if he would request this again, as it gave him a hell of a headache.)

Anyhow, I was both horrified (I had to touch RAT SPIT to re-bait the trap! OK, I wore gloves but whatevah.) and pleased. At least he would be stupid enough to trust the trap the second time, and he was also going to meet his maker on a full belly. It gave me a small amount of comfort, although I'll doubt it made a rat's-ass of difference to him in the end.

Because you see, after baiting the trap for the second time, and going out yet again, I returned to find him deceased, Deceased and no longer defecating in my home. So yeah, like I said, a small amount of remorse, however mostly what I feel is relief, especially after I saw the size of that sucker.

I'm so dreadfully lame that the first thing I thought when I saw him ... well, no, the first thing was "ick, rat brains!" and then the second thing was "and dude, I have to go past him to get my camera. There won't be photos with this post." I mean really, would someone with even a shred of decency have thought that? (Apart from you. You're exempt. You know who you are.)

I thought not. Apparently I'm the antichrist or something.

As punishment I'm spending the rest of the night dyeing some beautiful Lopi-style wool (but not scratchy!) I got from New Zealand. Yes, it's a terrible terrible punishment. (Chunky, thick-and-thin so possibly handspun. I don't know the content. It'll be varigated ... red, yellow and either purple or blue. Or bluey purple.)

There may be beer, also.

And even though there will be no pictures of ratbrains, there likely will be pictures of wool if Blogger ever gets over it's photograph-loading-up issues.

still coming: the first two FOs of 2007, really!

R.I.P. Mister Rat. Long live the rat.

Now you can sleep easy without fear of feeling the pitter patter of tiny mousey feet as they run across you in the night (shudder).
I used to own a ball python that would eat only hamsters. While I would never own one as a pet anymore (they're still rodents, and all they do is burrow and scratch and run on squeaky wheels), I think I suffer from delayed remorse for all the cute, fuzzy hamsters that Elvis ate for lunch.

That said, I'm glad you got through the rat episode without as much emotion as I would have. Then again, a woman's gotta protect her wool.
Are you including the rat as one of your FO's? Because it totally counts. In my book anyway.
Okay, so if what you killed in the trap really was a big rat, does that mean you also have a small mousie still in the house? Or did Ratty just look little the other day? Not trying to creep you out or anything :)
Pictures of dead rodents? Who would post such an atrocity?
Where there's one ... there's a possibility of MORE! [did you know they come in pairs? or more?]
Do not, repeat, do not toss the trap. You may need it again.

You do not wish to be assimilated.
So this does raise the question: What was the LITTLE thing you say you saw???? Hm????

You remember what they say? If you see one......
shit, I am so busted, I'm with Wen.
Yeah, how's about the wee mousie?
OK, I take it back, you know, the comment about your husband's fists.
We had a mousie in the house a couple of years ago...and amazingly there really was only one. Notnomore.
Ding-dong, the rat is dead ... the rat is dead, the rat is dead ... ding-dong, the wicked rat is dead!
(tune from Wizard of Oz, please)

Even better that a photo of rat brains might have been photo of dh's face when you made HIM get rid of rat brains!
Blech! I am so wimpy about that kind of stuff that I likely would have lived with the rat rather than kill him. Or I'd have moved out. I can't stop shuddering.
I am SUCH a city girl.
Oh well at least it wasn't as big as a city rat from NYC or Chicago. They rival large cats and small dogs.
I agree with others, don't get to overjoyed, you probably have a few others about. The small mouse like thing, may have been a baby.
Sorry to rain on your triumph.
Man, you post one picture of a dead mouse and suddenly people start going all peta on ya. Beatrice Potter is wonderful, but she probably didn't have rodents nesting and shitting in her stuff and eating her food.

And as much as it pains me to say this, Norma is right. Rodents don't travel alone. I had one, and after it was murdered, I had another one. Then one day I came home and had about 6 of them. I hope you have a lot of peanut butter.
You can hate me too, but I agree with Norma and Jenifleur - you need to find out where they are getting in. Keep in mind that a rat can get in through ANY hole that is big enough for it's HEAD to fit through. Seriously. They have collapsible ribcages - no I am not kidding. SO you need to find out where they're coming in, and start closing up all the holes. Oh, yes, I said holes, plural - because apparently they also have a habit of finding more than one escape route. They are very smart and tricky. This would be a good time to revisit the cat issue - a nice **outdoor** barn cat who lives in the garage would be a lot of help.
The battle is not yet won. You have visual evidence of more of the beasties. And you do need to find out where they were coming in. The dryer vent is a classic. But those rats are clever. If you can't have a cat, you could try borrowing a Jack Russell Terrier from someone.
Oh they are so horrible ! I remember when we were having plumbing in the house and I was about ten.The toilet light didn't work so I went in with a torch only to be met with glassy eyes..the screaming did stop and Dad hit Mr. Rat on the head with a shovel.
i used to chop the heads off of rats for a living with a little guillotine.

good times.
That sounds like a terrible, awful punishment. And I vote for red. I surely hope there was beer involved.

Uh, sounds liked you've already got an FO for 2007 (finished off). Sorry, that was tacky. Welcome to Monday.
Thats to funny. A few years back as I was lying in bed asleep I woke up in a fog to hear whimpering wondering what it was I slowly opened my eyes to look at my hubby. The cat was on top of his pillow giving a baby mouse she had caught a bath. Talk about freakout! Here hubby had fallen asleep out in the livingroom watching tv and it was me,the cat, and the mousie.He was scared shitless . I put him out. Sue
Sleep well. OK, I kid you not-the word verfication is wakysuac
(wacky swak?) Keep the trap!
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