Sunday, February 21, 2010

Scat, Rat!

You may remember him – Templeton – the rat in Charlotte’s Web of whom E.B White writes: “ ‘Why does he have to stay up all night, grinding his clashers and destroying people’s property? Why can’t he go to sleep, like any decent animal?’…The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples, no consideration, no decency, no milk of rodent kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness, no anything.”

Well, that same Templeton has come to live under our house – and he is on a mission of revenge. You see, a cousin of his dared enter our home last autumn and I, bloodthirsty Queen of the Murphy Clan, mercilessly ordered his head to be chopped off by the rat-guillotine.

While Templeton knows better than to stick his filthy nose into my territory, he is sparing no effort in making me miserable. He knows my location at night and makes sure to alert me to this unwelcome fact. How he knows that I ordered his cousin’s execution and that it was I who declared eternal war on any and all free-range-rodents, blows my mind. But he knows, for he does not even attempt to wake Scott at night. Rather, he loudly and belligerently scratches, scampers, chews, chomps, crunches, munches, gnaws and grinds on who-knows-what right underneath the floorboards on MY side of the bed. I’ve stomped my feet at him, knocked on the wall, spoken harsh words to him at 1AM and given my (poor innocent) husband an aggravated do-something-about-this elbow-in-the-ribs at 3AM, all in an attempt to make an end to the stubborn creature’s nightly romps. To no avail. I keep hoping the neighbor’s cat will get him (another whiskered cousin met his Maker thanks to the most welcome secrets services of the nextdoor feline) but that has yet to happen.

So since these nightly visits have been going on since before Christmas, I actually welcomed new born duty: leaving the racket of my corner of the bedroom at 4AM in order to nurse (and nap) in the peace and quietness promised by the comfortable chair in the nursery. A crying baby (easily silenced by feeding) is a welcome middle-of-the-night noise compared to the dissonance of rat pitter-scratcher-patter at the same hour.

But oh, Templeton knew the plan. And he interfered. The very first night I snuggled down to peacefully feed Fritz, guess who moved with me… Oh yes, Mr. Beady Eyes directly scuttled his way over to the nursery foundations and started gnawing (laughing?) under my sacred seat.

Well, it can’t be helped. The (now quite moody) queen has finally (after 2+ months of enduring his obnoxious of mocking) ordered: Off with his head! The creature must die. By means of the Rat Guillotine. Tonight. Not sure whether PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) protect rats… if they do they have till sundown (less then 60 minutes) to come to his rescue. For if I can have my way, I hope to hear a “snap” between 1-4 AM tonight. Bloodthirsty you remark? You bet.

2 comments:

  1. you will.
    those traps work very well.
    i'm just sayin'
    (from what I hear of course)

    ReplyDelete
  2. Well, SCott went to check the trap... it sure snapped... BUT NO RAT! Clever dispicable creature. Maybe tonight...

    ReplyDelete

Make my day: add to my therapy with your words:-)