I was sitting on the couch half watching the Mariners lose yet another game while reading a classic John D. MacDonald Travis McGee (The Deep Blue Goodbye) when the phone rang.
It was Ms B, the lady next door, and she was a little shaky and shrill. She is a very nice single mom with two girls, the oldest in her last year of middle school. Her former husband lost his job and couldn't find another, so he ran off to Florida and divorced her.
I occasionally do guy stuff for her. NO NOT THAT KIND OF STUFF. Sheesh, get your mind out of your pants.
"There's a rat in the toilet, what should I do?!!"
I talked to her while trying to find my BB gun, but it was nowhere to be seen.
After a little thought I asked her if she had a bowl shaped pasta strainer. No, but she had a flat one. I told her I would get my bowl shaped strainer and be over in a minute.
After being guided to the throne room, I flipped the lid, and sure enough, there was a full grown live rat.
I scooped him up with the pasta strainer and put the flat strainer over the top. Rat under control. Of course he was not happy with the situation and was trying to escpae, but I kept the lid firmly in place.
"I don't have a cage or anything, what do we do with him?" inquired the lady. She is the sort that couldn't stand to have me crush his little vermin ridden skull right there on the batroom tile.
"Tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to take him for a little walk, and I'll be back with your pasta strainer in a little bit."
I had a cardboard box that was covered in plastic. about 12" square and only had a small opening. I sprayed Mr. Rat down with Thrust to calm him, and dropped him in the box. I then sprayed some more into the opening and then covered it.
Thirty seconds later Mr Rat was anesthetized.
Fatally.
Painlessly.
I went over to return the strainer and told Ms B that he had taken a long and permanent nap.
That would have been a real shock. Lift the lid, prepared to expose your most sensitive parts, glance down and there, swimming in the bowl is a big hairy wet rat. It would make you reluctant to expose yourself, make yourself vulnerable.
Of couse, being male I would never have the problem. I never put the seat down except when I have to.
Got any dragons you need slain? Princesses you need rescued from a fate worse than death?
6 comments:
I thought that whole rat-in-the-toilet was an urban myth. One more argument for stretching cellopane over the toilet before you put the seat down. Informing the Mrs. of said cellophane is optional.
Yeah, I wondered about it until I actually saw it for myself.
Sounds like me and Ms. B have a lot in common....I too tried to get a guy (The PK) to spare the life of a rat (that he'd caught in a trap...by the tail) but alas, he too slayed the furry little beast. Not in such a gracious manner as you did...he just took the rat out of the trap by the tail and slammed it against the concrete. No, I did not watch....but next time I looked at him (The PK, not the rat), my knight in shining armor wasn't so shiney anymore...;(
Stacy: I knew my image would be tarnished if I did what the PK did, and it is important to me to maintain the illusion. Ms. B brought me over brownies in the shape of a heart last night. And I gained another funny story to tell.
rats in a toilet?! I am so afraid to sit down now. I wouldn't get squeamish with a a rat kill. well, maybe just a little.
Oh you just had to mention baseball didn't you? I went away and missed the Astros make a real good run for first place just to blow it today, the day I get home. Nice. I am miserable because I feel like a jinx :(
Back in July, the M's were one game out of first place, so they went on an 11 game losing streak, from which they never recovered.
There's always next year.
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