I was off to organize. Meaning I was going to get some things ready for leaving on our trip in just over 3 weeks. There are quite of few things on the list that are looking disorderly. Which suitcases to take, does my favourite travel mug make it through security, what is considered appropriate laptop carrying gear? That sort of thing.
Instead, I sat across the table from my sweetie-pie who was trying to figure out what the ballot and cover letter from his union was all about. Apparently, his vote was required in order to ratify some non-decision about their contract. “Ratification,” he says, looking up from the papers, “isn’t that what we’ve been doing all day?”
I decide that we have been attempting de-ratification.
We have a workshop that used to be a garage and it has a few significant access points to the outside world. (Don’t worry, any of you who might be coming to stay, the workshop and its attic don’t have direct access to the rest of the house.) As you have already guessed, we have had uninvited guests. A family of 4 as far as we can tell. Based on the body count and the level of droppings and amount of scurrying that first alerted us to a potential problem.
You have been following along, I hope, and realize that my sweetie-pie and I don’t do things by half measure. We research, and implement the best plan. In the meantime, given the type of guests, we did some poisoning, hence the bodies.
Poisoning is bad in all kinds of ways, most are obvious if you stop to think about it, but we hadn’t considered the possibility of a poison-filled dead rat lying in the back yard ready for neighbourhood cats and dogs to find. Besides, we want to get rid of these varmints, not wage a recurring war.
During the renovation in the house we were able to take all the appropriate steps to keep wildlife out of the attic, and now, we must tackle the workshop.
For true de-ratification, here are the steps:
- Throw away all the almost brand new, kind-of-expensive rock-wool insulation. There is no way to get the rat smell out of it. And, rat smell is a neon sign that says “Rat Motel”.
- Wear a full respirator, gloves, and gear while shop-vac-ing all the mouse poo.
- Disinfect every nook and cranny, every rafter and exposed bit of drywall.
- Use snap-traps with bait. I hate these things (mouse traps but bigger) because you have to handle the poor dead thing to release it from the trap. With the poisoned ones, I used the “dog poo approach” of using a plastic bag as a glove and turning it inside out. Didn’t really have to look or feel. Still, death is almost instantaneous with a snap-trap and the body doesn’t end up in unexpected places – like the backyard or a tiny crevice between wall and floor.
- Close up all the entry points. This one will be tricky because there are a lot of possible points of entry, but it seems there are two favourite ones. My sweetie-pie has blocked one already using tin so they can’t chew through. The other is under the eaves of the workshop. We’ll be able to get at that, too. In the meantime, we will interfere with their super-highway. Our neighbour feeds the wildlife, squirrels, birds, racoons – and rats. The rats go to the feeder on his porch railing, run along to the place where the railing joins our gate, over the top of the gate, up a little bit of wall, and they’re in. Open the gate, and the highway’s not so super, anymore.
- Place odour-removing tablets, crystals, and potions liberally in the attic (now for the smell of bleach, not rat poo.)
Cute rat
It is likely that in all this I have failed to mention that I was once in love with a rat. Her name was Rachel and my son had begged to have her. After 500 rules and stipulations and stumbling blocks I had finally run out of excuses and Rachel, with brown eyes (no red eyes was really high on the list of “rules”) came to live with us.
She used to ride around on my shoulder and hold my earlobes with her cold little hands. Sometimes she’d be checking out my earrings, other times she’d give me a gentle nibble to see if I was still tasty. There was a section of the kitchen counter devoted to her. I would chop vegetables and toss the “compost” to her. She was very efficient. And trainable. She was good with the dog – at their first meeting she gave a small nip (didn’t draw blood, didn’t frighten the dog) and the hierarchy was set.
Killing her cousins is no fun. They are completely cute, but they aren’t invited. Let this be a warning … make sure you are invited before you start living in our attic!
