rats « Behind the Willows

Clara has always been very concerned about where people are. It’s not unusual for us to run though a long list of family and friends throughout the day identifying who is at work, home or elsewhere. If those people have dogs we have to do a run down of those too. Tonight we picked up our friend Jessie’s dog Finley and that started Clara off.

Where Jessie Mom?

Where Cooper Mom? (Jessie’s other dog)

Where Ivy Mom?

Where Dad Mom?

Where Piper Mom?

Where Storm Mom?

Where Trip Mom?

Where rat go Mom?

-Wait what?! How did a rat get in the list of family pets?!!? Well, as much as I would like to feign ignorance of our rodent issues, Christmas is coming and if Santa isn’t a fan of pouting and crying I’m thinking I better not lie either…

A few weeks ago I heard rodent noises under the kitchen sink, I opened the cupboard but didn’t see anything other than un-tripped empty mouse and rat traps. Then I heard rustling in the drawers next to the sink. Irritated that a mouse was boldly rummaging around when I was right there I opened and slammed shut multiple drawers in some odd misguided attempt to either scare it away or squish it. Instead a giant rat leaped out and almost landed on my feet. What followed I’m ashamed to admit was that girly scream that I seem to reserve just for rats – which then caused chaos to break out in the house. Clara stood up on her kitchen chair at the table and start crying, the rat disappeared, Piper tried to knock down the pet gate into the kitchen to follow it and John yelled down from upstairs wondering if everyone was OK.

In my defense I had bare toes.

Anyways, I’m not surprised that Clara is still talking about the rat.

Clara -” Where rat go Mom?”

Me- “I don’t know where do you think it went?”

Clara- “Pantry…. You shoot rat in pantry Mom?”

Me- “No. We don’t shoot things in the house.”

Clara- “Uncle Tyler shoot rat Mom?”

Me- “Not in the house.”

Clara- “Where Uncle Tyler Mom?”

Me- “At his house.”

Clara – “He cut up deer Mom?”

Me – (shit)

Fortunately I was able to derail Clara from rats and cutting up deer by talking about Uncle Tyler’s truck he was fixing. Now if I could just keep her from ending every sentence with “Mom” I’d really be getting somewhere!

This is my favorite cooking utensil. It has no equal and I don’t even know what to call it. It is made of bamboo and came with a wok as a wedding gift, sadly its brilliance went unnoticed for the first few years of married life. But now… now, I know this thing, (what ever it is called) is perfect. It tapers to a fine point on the end, perfect for scraping up things like scrambled eggs. Its odd shape makes it perfect for stirring the entire bottom of a pan of sauce. It’s perfect for stirring pasta. It has no equal when sautéing onions in butter in cast iron. It can serve things like rice just as well as a spoon.

I love it.

When I cook at other peoples houses I always wish I had brought it with me. When I wash the dishes I never put it in the dishwasher because it would take too long to get clean and I might need it. That’s how much I love it.

Or should I say loved it.

My beloved bamboo, thing (Help? What is it called? Anyone?). Now looks like this:

And the mouse war, it’s ON!

Sadly the mice are already winning—-

–We interrupt this post with breaking news!—

Upon going to check the mouse trap set previously in the day when the damaged “thing” was found Jessie discovered a rat under her sink.

—We now return you to your previously scheduled post.—

Earlier today I set a mouse trap under the sink. Shortly after starting this post I checked on it – tripped and empty. So before relaying by how much the mice were already winning I went to check again…

…and there was the rat.

The rat was facing away from me in the cupboard under the sink, I was peering in the door and we were both frozen. I had a rat, not moving, and I couldn’t come up with a good way to kill it. So I did what any self respecting house wife would do. I grabbed the rolling pin off the counter and tried to smash it while it ran around in circles under the sink, then screamed like a girl when it came out by my bare toes. Now I had the rat corned in the kitchen and my toes were feeling awfully vulnerable. It was time for reinforcements. PIPER! Had the dog out of her warm bed under the covers at a run. Piper skidded into the kitchen and when I yelled “GET THE RAT” to my amazement, she did! When it was dead she accepted my praise, followed me to the garbage outside to see it thrown out, barked once at the night and then went back to bed.

My dog rules.

So now the mouse and rat war is on.

Trouble.

We’ve beaten the mice in winters past.

The rats are on a winning streak.

But they chewed the wrong kitchen implement this time, I’m serious now.