For Michael, Version 1.1
So recently we have had to deal with rats in our garage. All I can say is ugh. No. Wait...UGH! In all of our years as homeowners, we have not ever had to deal with these awful, hideous, filthy creatures.
How did we know we had rats??? (OMG...I hate to even say the word...it sounds like we live in a tenement). Well about a month ago we noticed some scratching noises in the attic (we thought "damn squirrels again"). Then we noticed that our cat's food dishes were COMPLETELY clean. We just thought his appetite was back again (he's been sick off and on) and he must really be hungry so we gave him MORE food. Then there was "the encounter," but more on that later.
We now know the "rat-tas" were eating the food out of his dish and being well fed by us.
And my cat is no help either. Oreo is the epitome of a "fraidy cat". He probably just sat himself on top of the water heater and watched the icky varmits run around everywhere. He didn't want to go out to the garage at night and didn't want to be near his food...what's up we thought? But we'd kick him out to the garage for the night like we have done every night for the last 15 years. We now know why.
Of course, in the past we have had to deal with a few mice here and there, but our previous cats, Figaro, Coco and Oliver, were all good hunters. They would get those little devil-mice in a couple of days and TA-DA no more rodent problem. But Oreo has always been different. He has never brought us any "presents" like the other cats. Oreo never hunts. He doesn't like to eat any kind of meat, no matter if it is living (like a mouse or bird) or our "people" meat whether raw or cooked, like our other cats used to do. He is perfectly fine with his Fancy Feast, Friskies and...wait....frosting. He loves to eat frosting. And butter, too. He's a wuss. But back to rat murdering....
So recently I was heading out to the garage to get Oreo settled in for the night and one of those ugly, gray, humongous rats ran across the floor right in front of me! Oreo leaps up on to the work bench, I slam the door screaming like I'm being devoured by zombies, and the hubby comes running expecting to see some horrific something-or-other happening.
"Oh...it's just a rat?" hubby says.
I narrow my eyes a bit and, for a moment, I think about putting some grilled ribeye on one of those huge traps and snapping HIS skull, but I keep my cool. Besides, death by rat trap could be construed as manslaughter or something, but I digress.
"Um, yeah" I say, "a dirty filthy rat about ten feet long with big teeth, a long tail and rubbing his grubby paws together like he's expecting a five course meal...duh."
"You are being a baby" he mutters as he heads out to Ace Hardware to buy the rat killing machines aka rat traps. When he gets home and puts fraidy cat in the house (Oreo not me though I am a "fraidy cat") while he sets his rat murder spree in motion....
Excuse me Mr. Jackson, but I do not think rats are lonely or misunderstood... anyone remember the 70s movie "Ben"???? I do, however, think they are pretty smart because at first they seem to be able to steal away the bait, pieces of my Tillamook cheddar thank-you-very-much, without snapping THEIR little skulls to a pulp. So he switches to the yummier and stickier, Skippy chunky peanut butter, hoping for more success. And these traps...they are huge suckers (or rather snappers). Of course, you know when you see one rat there are others lurking in the shadows waiting to crap all over my garage floor and belongings. I cannot wait until rat armageddon begins.
Okay. This is where I am glad I am the "girl" and he is the "boy" cause I don't want to have anything to do with these varmits...it's a man's job to rescue me. After a couple of days of setting rat-annihilation traps (with the peanut butter appetizers) hubby gets about seven of those rat-monsters! I don't know how he disposed of them...don't want to know how he disposed of them...don't care how he disposed of them...as long as "them" is gone. He assures me there is no evidence of anymore rat-monsters in the garage, but I'm making HIM do the laundry, feed the cat, and take care of anything involving going in to the garage, for at least another couple of weeks.
Did I mention it gives me the hee-bee jee-bees to know there are/once were rats in our garage???
So one day I will venture back in to the garage, yoga pants tucked into my Uggs, wearing a thick long sleeve sweater and latex gloves on my hands....just in case I see a a rat-villan waiting to pounce on me...um...yeah one day....
Au revoir mes amis.
Post script:
I am occasionally peeking out the garage door and checking Oreo's food dish. I am happy to report there are leftover bits and pieces in his dishes so I'm pretty sure the rat-creatures are gone for now....but I won't let on to hubby. I mean he is doing the laundry and other chores right now so why mess up a good thing for me???? LOL!
Well if you've read "about me," my original plan for a blog was to put out recipes from family and friends so my kids (and I use that term loosely) would be able to have these recipes so they can cook themselves. 
