1st
The unusually large rat and I have been spending some quality time playing hide+seek+startle today. Tragos recommended I try not to think about the rat or the rat’s family. I have obsessively hidden anything resembling food in rat-protected places but I did use the trashcan to form a kind of trap with a succulent piece of smoked salmon as bait, and then made some tea. The rat showed up and perched on the edge of the trashcan assessing me and then the salmon. He seemed to note the amateurish effort of my trap, whisked his tail in a great show of disdain and funambulated his way across an electrical cable. I went back to work and almost forgot about him. Some hours later I grabbed cleaning supplies so I could mop the floors, I did look around but I didn’t hear him, so mop in hand i picked up the pail. Quite a heavy pail. The truth hit me with the bluntness of a reading primer: THE RAT IS IN THE PAIL.Since then I have obtained the pro-trap above. I spoke to Tragos who was disappointed that I had not trapped the rat in the pail. I responded “Dude, it was about to climb up my hand! I wasn’t even wearing shoes!!”. I have since put on my cowboy boots (because those boots are made for rat catching) and talked to a Malaysian friend who lackadaisically recommended i hit the rat with a broom and told me it was good not to have snakes climbing out of the toilet. Bloody hell. I once had to look after a friend’s senile gerbil and it bit into the fleshiest part of my index finger like a miniature bulldog and wouldn’t let go. I mean, it did, eventually. Anyway, I’ve decided I’m going to mop the floors, forget about the rat and listen to The Walkmen’s new album while wearing cowboy boots. In situations like this I try to channel my mother’s energy; I have seen her squish a scorpion with a stiletto by a lake in Georgia. Maybe I should be listening to Mama Said Knock You Out instead…
