My Little Osama

Well, the renovation is 99.9 percent over and the little gift I've gotten to keep from this, other than new bathrooms, has been a rat.  I like to think about it in the singular.  It makes me feel better in spite of the fact that the Rat Man raised his eyebrows at me and said "they're never alone".  It started during the winter when I heard the pitter patter of little claws in the walls and overhead.  After multiple pest control people came in and did diddly I had to call the big guns in.  Who knew that you would need wildlife trappers to get these critters?  The man I spoke to on the phone said the magic words:  "Your problem is now our problem.  We will take care of this."  You are SOOO hired dude!  But alas, Osama still roams.  He's smart and tricky.  He could care less about the traps laid around for him.  We've had ceilings demolished and plumbing lines smoked.  HE IS STILL HERE! 

We just got back from a two week vacation and that brazen thing marched up the stairs into the kitchen (go ahead, recoil in horror) and chewed into the brand new Rubbermaid dog food container.  We think he picked up on the fact that Asha wasn't here and just felt all kinds of freedom!

Poor Sophie though.  Sophie has been living with us this past year and was, therefore, here solo the past couple of weeks.  She came downstairs one morning and the rat had gnawed on some peaches.  Another morning it was cereal.  Then she came home one evening and noticed the gerbils were out of their cage.  (Ok, ok ... I get the irony.  The gerbils are pets and we liiiiiike them.)  I bet it was just like Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH and Osama let them out.  She is moving out this week ... and the rodent issue has nothing to do with it.  Grin.

I'm calling Mr. Trap Man tomorrow morning.  Really dude, you were supposed to be my Seal team.