"Oh, f#$k, we have a rat," Not Jersey texted.
A few nights before he was turning on lights in the middle of the night, because he heard a noise. I called him crazy. I had to apologize.
"Did Kona get it?" I asked.
"Bean tried to catch it but it's huge and it hid. Bean is now in his crate and Kona in his room while I have the doors open and try to flush it out."
I laughed. I doubted the rat would be "flushed out." When I got home, Not Jersey had shoved 10 dishcloths behind our dishwasher cupboards. The rat was suspected to be hiding in or under the fridge. Backs were injured moving the fridge. Traps were ordered from Amazon.
In the ensuing days, much attention was paid to the pets' behaviors. When Bean was barking in the kitchen it was because of the rat. When Kona got the zooms, he was hunting the rat.
Finally, the rat trap arrived. It was a poison trap. Purchased for the safety of the other two pets. Safety be damned. I want this rat dead today, and I want evidence. What are we going to do when the dead rat smell starts coming out of the fridge?
"We buy a new fridge," said Not Jersey.
I found rat turds on our bed. I made a grump face. Not Jersey was not thrilled about our unwanted thrupple. Concessions were made. The electrocuting rat trap was purchased, bated, and placed.
Every few hours we checked for the flashing green light of death. We listed for buzzing. Nothing happened. More rat droppings were found.
Sunday night we were sitting on the couch. "There he is!" whisper yelled Not Jersey.
The rat was just inside the threshold of our bedroom door. His shadow shown through the plastic weather stripping. He had previously eaten a hole through the foam weather stripping, and now we could see him through the hole. Not Jersey hopped up and opened the bedroom door onto the porch. We watched through the screen door, hoping he would run out for nighttime folly.
Then Kona saw him. Then Bean. So everyone was now watching the rat.
We corraled the pets and waited. The rodent stuck his head out and back several times. He even crossed the threshold a couple times, but always raced back to "his room."
Finally, he wandered out onto the porch. I raced into the bedroom, slammed the door, and jammed Not Jersey's hoodie into the hole. When the rat wasn't able to run back into the bedroom, he made for the living room. Not Jersey put up his arms and ran at the rat while hissing like a cat.
I secured the bedroom door with additional plastic weather stripping. Not Jersey shut the storm door, as our security door does have a gap below. We added an additional barrier behind the bedroom door.
It's been a week, and so far... no more signs of the rat.
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