The rat in the roses is back ….

So I am trying to catch a nap and I hear the shrieks from the kitchen.

“It’s back. It’s back. The rat is back.”

Figures the little rodent would make a reappearance two weeks after I resumed bird feeding. So I get the weapon out, recharge it with a new CO2 cartridge, open an window, and immediately realize I have better things to do than sit in front of an open window in December on Cape Cod waiting for a rat.

So to the hardware store for a rat-sized Hav-A-Heart trap which has been robbed three times today by squirrels and is now loaded with a chunk of cheddar. I do not intend to have a heart when I finally nail the rodent. It’s Goodfella time into the trunk and down to the town pier for the ol’ cement overshoe treatment.

Author: David Churbuck

Cape Codder with an itch to write

0 thoughts on “The rat in the roses is back ….”

  1. I have several spare cats available….

    They are proven mousers…they bring them into the garage and eat them in front of me. ugh.

    I’m sure they could graduate to rats…bring a cat carrier on your next trip, I’m sure they’ll love the cape.

  2. I’m playing the piano bridge from Layla in honor of this post’s ending. Good stuff David. i just patched the hole in my driveway though
    I’ll send my cat “Lizzy, ‘ book rate she’s a good ratter and occassional gopher getter.

    Jim

  3. The dogs are useless? What do you expect? Essmee wouldn’t last two rounds with a Norwegian Water Rat. Sure, what you got on the Cape doesn’t compare to the monsters roaming the subways of NYC, but that poor little “dog” would get its ass kicked by a white lab mouse.

    It wears CLOTHING for frig sakes. You think a rat is going to be afraid of something half its size with whiskers and a Burberry scarf wrapper around its little neck?

    I’m with Mark. Borrow his cat. Set out some brie, light a fire, give it a webcam, sit around the plasma watching your broadcast of “The Hunt.”

    As for Ned, well, the poor boy been brought up with three kids in the house. He’s learned to feed at Fisher’s feet and lost all sense of the wild. You can’t let him loose and expect the wolf genes to kick in. He hunts marshmellow fluff with the best of them but that’s about it.

    Now Harry (Hairy), there was a scary beast to keep the rodents at bay…

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