Pansy

 
Admire the stunning color and shapes displayed by this gorgeous peacock pansy butterfly.
 
I was reminded by a friend the other day that I haven’t published any stories of late. Well, the only story on the go at the moment, is the on-going rat saga and so I have elected to go for an update.
 
Engineer versus the Rat – part 3.
 
Basically, the rat problem has been a gradual crescendo of frustration ever since I moved in just a year ago. In fact, when I first moved in, other than an occasional visitor leaving a few dried sultanas to sweep up, there was no real problem. However, since I returned from China after leaving the place empty for seven months, the problem has now escalated to critical proportions.
 
My documentation of the problem began on 11th December last, were I identified the problem, the rat gaining entry to the house via the toilet bowl. On the 12th December I designed and built a rat trap. I laid five of the traps around the house, fairly confident of a result. You can read back if you wish, but there were no more reports after that.
 
As for the bottle traps, not a single rat was caught. The traps did actually work, as a stray cat sneaked into the house, lured by the sweet aroma of a piece of rotting fish and got its head caught in one of the traps. I was alerted to the situation by the sound of the cat running around the kitchen, crashing into the walls and furniture while making strange screaming noises. Obviously rats are smarter than cats, but are they smarter than the engineer. Well things were not looking good. I was basically getting my ass handed to me by a rat.
 
After about two weeks of allowing the rats entry in the hope of a capture, I got sick of sweeping up the increasing volume of sultanas and decided to close off the toilet bowl. This was going to be a real pain, having to uncover the toilet every time I wanted to use it, but it was only going to be a temporary solution until I come up with plan B.
 
The only thing I had large enough was a door mat, held in place with a large upturned bucket and weighted down with half a bucket of water on top of that. Well it doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out how effective that was, does it – next morning I entered the kitchen, rat shit all over the place and a big hole ripped in the door mat - owned.
 
Wifey came to visit and after she had stopped laughing (about fifteen minutes or so) she suggested ramming the toilet brush down there. Now why didn’t I think of that. She learned a lot from living with the engineer for ten years – next morning, more rat shit all over the kitchen and bits of red plastic all around the toilet. Damn thing had eaten my toilet brush – owned again!
 
The next idea implemented was to cover the hole with the ass washing pan, full of water to give it weight. The toilet drain hole wasn’t round, but the gaps were too small for the rat. I felt good about this one. It worked. Wifey came around a few days later, so I gave her an update, mainly to try and stop her sniggering and showed her the pan of water covering the toilet drain hole.
 
But hang on a minute, where is all the water. I don’t remember using the pan and not replacing it. I picked up the pan (plastic) and the underside was all scratched and there was a small hole chewed at the edge. The water had drained out, removing the weight and the rat had pushed it aside. Then I noticed the rat shit. Tessa just fell about laughing. She would start laughing again every few minutes every time she remembered the look on my face when I discovered the hole – owned in public this time!
 
Obviously this rat with a penchant for plastic required something more substantial to keep it out. I removed the flange of a METAL tin, so the walls of the tin were bendy and would take the shape of the toilet orifice, wedged it in there and weighted it down with my new ass washing pan full of water. No way it was getting past this stopper. Do we have a winner – nah!
 
Yes, the tin can worked, but the rat still gained entry. Possibly the other open pipe in the bathroom that drains the sink water, but I doubted this as it was quite small. Instead of blocking it, which would have meant having to unblock every time I used the sink, I decided to find out where the rat escaped to. So I stayed awake that night, listening carefully for the rustling. I burst into the kitchen at around 3am. Chased the monster around the room a couple of times until it went behind the freezer. Banged on the side, rattled the extended monopod underneath, all the time giving it some blood curdling screams. The rat shot out and headed towards the bathroom.
 
I swung at it with the monopod but missed. I kept my eye on the drain hole but the rat disappeared under the door – cornered I thought. I sneaked up, brandishing my rather bent monopod ready to do some real rat f$@#&ng (reference to the film ‘All the president’s men”), swung the door open, but no rat. Not only that, but no hole, I even checked the ceiling. No way it could have got past me – owned again! – not only that, but my collapsible monopod no longer collapsed – well and truly owned.
 
No sleep for the rest of the night as I analysed the problem. I had been struggling with termites in the bathroom door, having to clear up loads of wood dust a couple of times a week. Then it struck me, oh no! All this time, it wasn’t termites, the damned rat was living in my bathroom door, chewing away to make more room!
 
Next morning I broke out the screw driver and removed the door and took it outside. Sure enough, a massive cavity lined with bits of carpet and toilet brush amongst other things like wrapping paper from the bin. I sent an SMS to Tessa, mainly so that I wouldn’t have to listen to her laughing – soooww owned.
 
Hang on a minute, the rubbish bin is hanging six feet up the wall, along with a bag containing my packet foods. They were hanging from nails hammered into the tenth step of the blocked off stairwell and hanging from 18 inches of string – no way!
 
Thinking back though, I thought I had been careless and missed the bin a couple of times, finding the odd coffee sachet and egg shell on the floor. Now I realised the rat had climbed the ten 1 inch step ledges and climbed down the string into the bin. I checked all the food packets that were hanging close by (I always check anyway before opening) and all was fine. The bags are now hanging in the living room.
 
While contemplating what to do with the bin, I noticed more wood chips on the floor. Several feet above, found a hole in the boarding of the stairs. Either the rat was coming in from upstairs or escaping upstairs. Dragged the landlord in and he got the hole fixed up double fast. Probably have to wait a while for the new bathroom door though – getting that owned feeling again.
 
A couple of hours ago, yes, nearly up to date, while working on the computer, I saw the rat pass by out of the corner of my eye. Furious, I leapt to my feet, grabbed my now useless monopod started screaming and gave chase. It darted under the kitchen table. There was no escape, but again, no sign of the monster. I poked around and checked under the framework of the table, but could not figure how the rat had yet again escaped. I heard a squeak then the rat dropped from the underside of one of the chairs and ran for the fridge.
 
We did the whole fridge thing again and it went for the bathroom. Ha! Toilets tinned up, no bathroom door, where you goin’ now then! – straight down the small drain pipe, which now has what is left of my toilet brush, handle first, wedged into it – I cannot belieeeve it – owned yet again!
 
Back for an inspection of the seats. The underside covers were ripped apart and crap everywhere. So all six seats were expelled from the house and I spent the next hour sweeping sultanas and mopping up with domestos – owned again I think.
 
So, to summarise; the engineers trap design failed, psychologically scarred for life cat, door mat eaten, toilet brush eaten, ass washing pan eaten, bathroom door eaten, six kitchen chairs eaten enough sultanas deposited to make a 20Kg Christmas cake and one bent monopod – owned, owned, owned and so owned.
 
Laugh if you must, you deserve it after reading all that!
 
Dave