Tag Archives: rat in the house

Rat in the House

“Well, of course there’s a rat in the house.  That’s just great.”  I was speaking to myself, of course.  There wasn’t anyone else around at the moment to fully appreciate the resigned and slightly sarcastic tone in my voice.  There were days I loved being a mother of four.  There were days I was so proud my husband was serving in Afghanistan that I didn’t mind being a single parent for another six months.  This was not one of those days.  This had been the kind of day that ends with me sending the kids to bed early and in tears because I was just too sick of their fighting to bear one more minute.  This had been the kind of day that ends with me sitting on my bed, eyes glazed, can of whatever in my hand, and an open bag of some kind of junk food.  This had been that kind of day.

It had started off badly, when I overslept.  I’d stayed up late, because I had a chance to talk briefly with my husband.  His call had been delayed for some reason, but we did finally talk.  I miss him terribly.  I miss my partner.  After our conversation, I stayed up even later, feeling sorry for us and wishing he could come home and stay home forever.

Oversleeping means that the children are late for school.  When I did wake up, chaos began.  I had to yell at Martin for watching television before school, and make him get himself dressed and ready for first grade.  Andrea pretended like she was still asleep, until I threatened to sing our Good Morning song, and then she was up like a shot and whining and complaining that life was sooooo unfair to her.  Cody and Brady fought each other in their sleep, I think, because they woke up angry at each other and didn’t stop fighting all day long.

I got them all off to school, eventually, although Andrea missed her bus and I had to drive her to junior high.  That meant I was late for work at the recreation center, which meant I missed our morning meeting and had to sit in my boss’ office for ten minutes while she told me how important it was to get to work on time.  My boss is fifteen years younger than I am, and feels she has something to prove.

Work didn’t get any better during the day, but I managed to stick it out and make it home in time for the kids to come home.  Helping them with their homework seemed like a special punishment designed for the worst levels of hell.  By the time everyone had finished homework and eaten dinner, I wanted to kill everyone.

I survived another couple of hours while their fighting, bickering and complaining increased, and finally had enough.  They all went to bed early, and I lay on my bed, too dazed to cry.

That’s when I saw the rat in the house.  It stopped in the middle of my bedroom floor and just looked at me.  “Good timing, stupid,” I thought, “I’m just spoiling for a fight!”

Rat Control

rat removal

“I’m calling my boyfriend, because he’ll know what to do about rat control!”  Tish, who was normally so sweet, nearly screeched this sentence.  I had come home late from working a long shift at the campus library, and had nothing but a couple of hours of study ahead of me.  But, when I walked in our front door, I nearly tripped over a pile of furniture and various belongings forming a maze throughout the small house we all rented together.

At first, I thought my roomies were playing a practical joke on me.  Last week, three of us had packed up all of Trish’s belongings, including her bedding, and left a note on her bare floor that read, “We’ll miss you.”  She’d walked in, taken one look at the empty room, and burst out laughing.  It was the kind of thing we all did to each other, so it was no wonder that I mistook my roomies’ maze of household items as a practical joke.

And, I have to admit, I didn’t believe them at first when they told me they were doing rat control.  I thought it was more of the joke.

But, when I saw the rat streaking across the room, leaping over the turned-over ironing board and a box that had once held file folders, I just about leaped out of my skin.  Over the course of the next hour and a half, the four of us tried unsuccessfully to perform rat control ourselves, but Trish was right.  It was time to bring in a guy, as much as we hated to admit it.

Once Trish’s boyfriend arrived, he couldn’t stop laughing at my roommates’ maze, and I have to admit, I was a little fuzzy as to why they thought they needed to make a maze.  Apparently, they had discovered a rat in the couch, and built a pathway to the front door, in hopes the rat would leave the couch, follow the path, and go outside.  Unfortunately, after they banged on the couch with a broom, that rat ran out and leaped up and over the walls of the maze.  So, instead of leading the rat safely outside, all the belongings scattered on the floor only served to add to the chaos as we all tripped over things trying to flush out the rat and then run away from it at the same time.

Rat control was not our strong point.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t something Trish’s boyfriend did, either.  I think he only made it worse, by laughing at us and making the rat even more frenzied than before.

After another forty-five minutes of fruitlessly chasing the rat and running away from it, we finally decided we had to call a professional rat control service.  After all, where there is one rat, there may be many more.  And, I didn’t want to live in a rat maze anymore than a rat did.