I saw something this morning, after I’d opened my eyes but before I put on my glasses. In my blurry vision, it looked like a mouse had just crept into our bedroom and taken up refuge behind the vacuum cleaner.
I put on my glasses, and discovered it was not a mouse but a small rat. I noticed a second dead rat (also small) in the hallway, apparently already a victim to feline depredations.
We put our best mousers, Milo and Crybaby, on the case. They had this little rat cornered, but they couldn’t seem to seal the deal. Maybe they were tuckered out from killing the one in the hall. And I’ll be damned if that rat didn’t look genuinely cute as it climbed through a vacuum cleaner attachment.
Finally I got impatient. With gloves on, I grabbed the rat, put it in a plastic bag, took it outside, found a brick, and smashed the poor creature into a fine paste.
It was a quick death.
We haven’t had rats in the house since last spring, when we had a couple unpleasant incidents. A recent comment on this blog suggests the new and improved trash cans could be increasing rodent desperation. Xy’s theory is these guys were fleeing the renovation next door (more on that soon).
Whatever the case, we are both pretty revolted.