Rat Central

“I've got it cornered!” Michael shouts at me through the door, “Don't let the dogs in!”

Brandishing a broom in one hand and clutching a metal dustpan in front of him like a shield, Michael is half standing, half crouching in the kitchen, confronting the third rat. Sensing a threat, the dogs begin to jump and paw at the door, howling like banshees and barking non stop.

“Is it dead?” I shout as I navigate through what I expect will turn into a stampede at any moment.

“God-dayum if I know!” he shouts back.

One by one, I drag the dogs away by their collars and shut them in the front room then open the door just a crack. “Poke it,” I tell him impatiently, “See how fast it moves.”

He glares at me, takes a deep breath and stretches out the broom, jabbing at the unfortunate rodent and flinching quickly back.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, “It's alive. Barely. Should I smash it over the head?”

The very idea makes me queasy.

“No,” I tell him, swallowing hard and hoping I won't be sick, “Just sweep it up and put in the trash.”

A couple of days later, I notice that the little pit mix is obsessed with something in the yard and when I investigate, I find a dead rat. That makes four.

And then came yesterday.

“Something smells in the kitchen,” Michael tells me, “Can you hang around while I move the stove and see if there's anything there?”

I would prefer, I think, to be in hell with a broken back, but I agree. We lock the dogs out, I arm myself with the broom, and he drags the stove away from the wall. I see the tail immediately and it takes all I have not to retch. The rat is very dead but he's also wedged in, snagged on some piece of stove underworks and we can't dislodge him. When Michael moves the stove, the corpse moves with it and the smell is revolting.

“Enough,” I finally say, “I'm calling the exterminator.” And for once, Michael doesn't argue.

Denver, our trusted, dog-loving and invariably cheerful pest control guy, arrives later that day and between the two of them, they manage to retrieve, remove and dispose of the 5^th rat and spread a generous helping of poison in its wake.

The battle is won. The outcome of the war is yet to be determined.