Oh, it had a long tail. And it was furry. And I swear it was bigger than my dogs. It was a RAT. A gross, huge, gray rat.
He was no Remy, that's for sure. Or even his not-picky brother Emile.
 |
| NOT the furry creature eating my cat's food. |
No, this was a RAT. Eating my cat food.
If you know me, you know I'm a mouse aficionado. I love mice. I raised mice in college. (And fed them to my snake, but that's an entirely other blog post. A few I kept as pets.) Had this been a mouse, I would have just jarred the door and had him scurry on his merry way and laughed about it.
Seriously. It was as big as Oscar (my 6 pound chihuahua).
So I EEKed. Marshall came running. He asked what he could trap it in.
"I know! The dog crate!"
"The dog crate is next to the rat, Allison," he said. Well, he asked. That was my idea.
He went outside through another door and got a shovel. He opened the laundry room door - the Rat did not move. He whacked that thing with gusto. I EEKed again and hid my face, but I peeked through and saw that gross huge tail curl up. A direct hit!
Marshall grabbed the bag of cat food and threw it outside. I, smartly, handed him a small sledgehammer. I did not ask what he did with it. I do not want to know. All I know is that the rat is dead. I hope his little family gets the message and if not, some poison will be headed their way very soon.
Until then, we will NOT be watching Ratatouille anytime in the near future. Ugh!
