Back in June, we moved into our new house in Georgia.
Six days into it, I *thought* I saw a mouse or rat in the kitchen. Appropriate amounts of pants-crapping took place.
Pest guy was contacted, no rodent was located or ever seen again. Food stopped being noshed on and it looked as though it was possible that it left.
Angels sang and orphans cried tears of joy.
I totally let it go as all signs of rodent infestation disappeared.
When Peter freaked out like a 12 year old girl and did the OHMYGODISAWARAT dance in the hallway.
The rat, which we will now refer to as Howard (because I have never known a Howard that wasn’t a complete douchebag and older friends of mine will appreciate the joke), ran across the kitchen floor to hide under the stove.
I couldn’t get the pest guy to come out fast enough.
I stood in front of the oven trying to figure out how to keep Howard from getting loose and running heebiejeebie through the house. Thereby forcing me and the kids to seek sanctuary at a hotel…in Newnan, GA…which I’m not entirely positive that all of Howard’s relatives won’t be staying at.
So, I thought to myself “What Would White Trash Mom do?”
1. Pick oldest towels, the ones you don’t care about trashing after, and shove them in every open crevice around/under/behind the oven
2. Leave tiny spot open and free to let Howard out
3. Place peanut-butter laden non-lethal rodent trap at open spot so that Howard will be lured into his own demise
4. FREAK OUT!!!!!
OK. So this was fool-proof right?
OH! And have Kitteh on standby. Because this IS the reason you went and got a cat anyway. This is the moment he’s been waiting for. He has a date with destiny. And his destiny is named HOWARD the RAT.
And then it happened.
I will give Kitteh mad props for at least scaring the CRAP out of the rat and forcing it into hiding.
But Kitteh failed to kill the rat. which was on my counter. and on my stove. and mocked our trap. and flipped me off. Stupid Howard.
We finally gave up and Friday the pest guy came out and Peter and I stalked the kitchen all day hoping to hear the snap of a neck or at least the agonized scream of a rodent trapped in a pile of slightly anesthetic glue. <—which Peter will totally testify the stuff makes your fingers go numb
No luck. No killing. No mayhem. No blood. No dead Howard.
My sleep Saturday morning was jarred by Rachael fairly vibrating next to my bed.
“MAMA!!! I saw the rat!! I SAW it!!! It’s in the office!!!!!!! I SAWWWW ITTTTT!”
I went back to sleep.
WHILE I was sleeping, my husband, the kids and the cat when on a Howard-hunting expedition in the office.
Where they cornered the wild beast.
Where the cat played Lion King on it’s furry butt.
Where Nathaniel shot it, not once, but TWICE in the head with his airsoft gun.
Where Peter used my paper shredder to trap it.
Where they carried it downstairs in said paper shredder where it sat in the living room all afternoon while we figured out how to dispose of it.
Since it was STILL ALIVE.
In a paper shredder.
In my living room.
No details need to be shared about the disposal process, but let’s just suffice it to say that Howard has been moved out of the living room and is now awaiting a date with the trash guys.
OH, BTW? This is a great time to buy stock in Clorox, just in case you were wondering.