I originally penned this story for Maria who’s just been through an operation (just rest up, M!) and thought you might get a chuckle from it as well.
We were overseas recently. And discovered, upon returning, that life at the tropics doesn’t stand still. Due to our diligent pre-trip spraying, we didn’t get the Invasion of the Ants that we so feared, but we did get a mini-infestation of cockroaches that has now sent the kids into a regular cleaning frenzy (can’t be all that bad then, can it?), a spider the size of your fist (and they bite too, as J can attest), as well as two other critters.
The first was a juvenile spitting cobra. Yeah, you know those snakes you see on National Geographic, where the camera is up close and waving around, and this snake rears up and shoots venom and it smears on the camera lens? Yeah, one of them. We found it in the pantry. They are endemic to this region and can just as easily be found in urban areas as forested ones. (It doesn’t help that our house sits in a combination of the two.)
The poor thing was just looking for a place to call home but we didn’t have a choice. At first we looked around for something to trap it in but we barely had two long sticks! How the hell could we manoeuvre it into a jar or something? Where’s that little noose on a long stick thing when you need it? In the end, we had to kill it and did so with regret. The juveniles are supposed to be more aggressive than the adult cobras, but this one was so desperate to just get away and only got angry when J pinned it against the wall with one end of the broomstick. You would have lost your temper before it did.
Meanwhile, the dogs were going berserk on the other side of the baby gate to the kitchen. They couldn’t see what was going on but they knew that Something Bad was in the pantry and were rearing to have a go at it. They didn’t get the chance. J had brought in Squeak to help him out but all Squeak wanted to do was get out and go back to lazing on top of the scratch post. (This is not the first of Squeak’s iniquities.) J finally despatched the snake, we toasted it that night for the forbearing animal with unfortunate choices that it was and moved on.
But then, a couple of days later, Sausage started sniffing around the library like a bloodhound, culminating in one solid hour barking at the shoe cabinet. I didn’t think it was another snake, but I did think it was either one of those large-arsed spiders again or a cockroach. The kids and I got ready. Various insect sprays. Check. Torch. Check. Broom. Check. Dustpan. Check. A long stick. Check.
I took the torch and shone it around and between spaces. Didn’t see a thing. But Sausage was still barking like mad. The Wast brought Fluff and Squeak into the room to help out Sausage but they looked as if they didn’t know what was going on. No sniffs, no curiosity. Nothing. So I tried moving the cabinet a little, shifting one side, to give us more working room. Little Dinosaur and I saw a flash of grey-brown and a long tail before we all ran screaming from the room. (I’m not ashamed to admit that.)
We regrouped in the living room. “Right,” I said, “it looks like we’ve got ourselves a rat.” Meanwhile, Sausage was still barking around the cabinet because she didn’t see the rat take off for one of the bookshelves. “Let’s go get some rat poison.”
We piled into the car, drove to the nearest supermarket, purchased some poison and headed back. Meanwhile, from Sausage’s investigations, we gathered that the rat was penned up around a particular bookshelf. The kids hightailed it upstairs to their room but I had my working machines in the library, so I didn’t have a choice. I did put some shoes on though.
When we went to pick up J from the bus-stop a couple of hours later, I thought we had a plan all figured out. We’d pack up the cats and dogs for the night, put out some poison, then collect it (and, hopefully, a dead rat) up the next morning before letting our pets out again.
It wasn’t to be. While we were gone, Rat obviously decided to head for somewhere safer. She must have darted to another bookshelf but, unfortunately for her, Sausage saw her this time. Our dog pawed an entire bottom shelf of books out of the way and Rat must have panicked.
Instead of heading back to the sanctuary of the shoe cabinet, she must have decided to chance it in the rest of the house. Under she went, below the library baby gate, and that would have stopped Sausage cold. However, what Rat wasn’t to know was that Cookie was on the other side of the gate.
Now, while Sausage is fast, Cookie is faster. Our smaller mini bully loves to run, looks like she’s half-whippet and is able to catch arrogant birds in mid-air on take-off from our front garden. Rat didn’t stand a chance.
When we came home from the bus stop, we found a dead rat in the dining room with its throat crushed, but otherwise intact. I pieced the rest together from the evidence available. Lowest bookshelf in a mess with network switch unplugged. Squeak still in the middle of the library, having a nap. (Fluff had buggered off back upstairs, the lazy sod.) Baby gate moved out of position but still holding. (Sausage must have slammed into it, chasing Rat.) Said dead Rat. Cookie outside sunning herself by the koi pond.
We were never so proud of our dogs than at that moment. They may not be what people think of when they think of working dogs but it looks like they’re our working dogs, perfect for our current environment. They got extra treats that night and the cats got a lecture on the responsibilities of being part of the household…but I don’t think it took.
Have a good weekend and I’ll catch you next week.
