It started harmlessly. Mrs. Studiodave asked if I had left several hundred raisin sized poops in the basement. I tried to recollect the previous night's events - Fresno State decided that loosing by 27 was unacceptable, so they had to buckle up for a last field goal to lose by 24.
There goes $25.
Upon further review of the basement scat, it wasn't the cute field mouse my wife hoped it would be. It was more ominous - Rat (Bin Ladenous Ratus). And much like Cheney's lazer like (and emotionally irrational) focus on Iraq, my wife proposed we burn the house and move permanently into a hotel.
Luckily, the time was 9:55pm so Home Depot would be closed. We "discussed" it and my wife agreed that burning the house was not a viable financial option - although perfectly understandable (*hug*). (Editorial - single men - you must understand that there are moments where women folk act irrationality you have to step up and be a man. e.g. Extra hugs).
The next day the wife picked up $30 worth or traps and the like and waited for me to come home to bait and set them. Done and done. At 5:15 the next morning, I want downstairs to fine 2 rats DOA. I tossed them in the trash confident I can conquered - Mission Accomplished. Only cost me $30; I proved my manhood to my wife and kids.
But now, much like Iraq - this has proven far more costly and humbling.
This morning while delicately balancing myself in the attic a rat ran across my hand. I screamed like Michael Jackson - but not quite that butch a sound.
Now, we are up to 11 dead rats. And the cost to plug the holes in the eaves of the roof to stop this armada - $1700.
The wife is now asking questions about regime change. I need a hug.
5 comments:
Man, do I recognize your wife's proposed solution. I've been front and center in similar grave circumstances to confront similar proposed solutions several times over the years.
Don't know what you're abode is like, but $1,700 to seal off some eaves sounds like a "you'd be better off doing it yourself" price. That's especially so if yours is a single-family, single-story home.
Luckily the house back up to what appears to be the grand canyon. Did I mention I have a fear of hights?
Normally, I hate cats. But when we lived in a 100-year-old house (we now live in the 'burbs in a new build...shame on us...), we had rats, mice and voles.
A friend of our lived in the sticks. Anywhere where your neighbor is more than 100 yards away qualifies as country...anywhere where it is easier to drive to the neighbor's is the sticks. Damn near a foreign country.
Anyway, they had orange tiger-striped barn cats. Bred to be aggressive mousers.
1 free cat, a litter box and some cat food later, we had a varmint killing machine of unparalleled proportions. He was equal parts sadistic, vicious, violent and efficient. He was also the happiest cat in the world. He had nearly unlimited "toys" to tackle.
Countless....COUNTLESSS...trophies consisting of severed heads and entrails were left in front of our bedroom door.
After about a year, he became a fat, lazy, good-for-nothing slouch. He destroyed every last one of the little rodent insurgents. He was too efficient for his own good, and let his, um, cat-like reflexes go to waste.
Now...he just bugs the shit out of me and gets under my feet and between my legs any time I walk down a set of stairs.
Point is, get a Tiger cat; GREAT mousers. Efficient killing machines.
This sounds like nothing a lot of booze and guns can't cure.
Smitty, as a lifelong cat lover, I regret your inability or unwillingness to make a friend out of that faithful and efficient servant you brought home. Get to know it and you'll be amazed at how intelligent and perceptive your cat is. There's much more there than a living mousetrap.
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