Happy Friday.
Happy Birthday to Julia --- 8 years old today.
Two rats loose in my house.
The day didn’t start out exactly as I had hoped this morning. It is 6:30 AM at the moment, and I am compelled to tell my story right away to those of you who might appreciate it.
Since it is only 6:30 AM, a lot has already happened in my day.
Frieda and I have been talking about blogging. Yesterday (I think) I told her that I really couldn’t do a blog because my life is pretty routine. Nothing much happens. What would I ever write about?
I may have to rethink that today.
I was awakened from a somewhat fitful sleep at 5:20 this morning. I heard Tim’s door open, and then the dogs (who had been sleeping with him) came flying out and jumped on my bed, very excited. They were almost immediately followed by Tim, yelling “Get up! Get up! It’s an emergency!” An emergency? Seemed like a perfectly quiet rainy Friday morning. But who knows what constitutes “an emergency” to a 13 year old boy. So I opened my eyes, fought the dogs off me (they are now excited and both trying to lick my face), and sat up. What could it be?
“The cage fell over in my room, and the rats aren’t in the cage!”
Oh, no.
I realize, suddenly, that Tim’s pet rats --- Cleopatra and Hepsepshute – are loose in the house. Or worse (worse?) they have been captured and killed by either the dogs or the four cats. This house is a treacherous place for rodents.
I can’t even describe how motivated I was to get out of bed at that moment. Nothing like knowing there are rats in your house (or an awful mess to clean up) to get you out of bed.
Tim’s rats have an enormous cage. It can hold A LOT of shavings. A lot. They were all over Tim’s room, and tracked into the hall. No sign of the rats. No sign that the rats had been captured either. No blood. No dismembered tails. Just lots of shavings everywhere.
Tim and Julia and I grab flashlights and get down on our hands and knees. Under the bed….behind the desk….under the heating vent --- no sign of rats. (Keep in mind, Tim’s room – as is probably typical of most 13 year old boys) has a lot of STUFF in it. Lots of potential hiding places. No sign of rats.
Tim goes to the kitchen and gets a box of crackers. He starts putting crackers out around his room. “Maybe we can lure them out,” he says, “or at least they won’t starve if we don’t catch them.” He seems surprised when I vehemently object to FEEDING the rats that are apparently still alive and running around in the house.
Finally, Tim says, “Maybe they’re behind the bookcase. They always try to get back there.” I look. The bookcase is heavy, heavy wood. Packed with books, trophies, rock collections, toys, batteries, bits of whatever it is boys collect. It doesn’t look like there is any room behind the bookshelf – it is pretty snug against the wall. Can rats fit into a space less than ½ inch wide? I remember a hamster loose in my childhood home ….. we found him after several days. He seemed to be able to squeeze into any space. So maybe…? Is it possible I hear some scratching from behind the shelves..? But first we will have to take everything off the shelves……
We start hauling stuff off the shelves. “This is good,” I think. “I’ve been meaning to help Tim clear out some of this stuff.” In 5 minutes, every surface of Tim’s room is covered in stuff from the shelves. Well, except the rather large sections of the floor that are covered in soiled aspen shavings.
The shelves are heavy, but I manage to wiggle them forward about 2 inches. Sure enough – success! Both rats are there ---- but not for long. There is a little bit if scuffling and a few slapstick moments as the three of us (Ben is still sleeping) chase the rats around this now-extremely-cluttered room. But we catch them, they are safe, and they are no longer loose in the house.
Tim has a big mess to clean up. There are shaving everywhere, and they don’t vacuum well. He will have to pick most of them up by hand, and then vacuum the rest.
He objects to this, “It wasn’t MY fault the cage tipped over,” he protests.
We have a lovely discussion about the difference between “fault” and “responsibility”, and the fact that if something is your responsibility, then “fault” is irrelevant. I am not sure he gets it at all, but he is still cleaning up shavings, grumbling.
The bus comes in 10 minutes, so I think he will be buying lunch today --- even though it is junk food.
It is now after 7:00, and I need to get moving myself.
Maybe I should start a blog. I might find something to write about.
Happy Birthday to Julia --- 8 years old today.
Two rats loose in my house.
The day didn’t start out exactly as I had hoped this morning. It is 6:30 AM at the moment, and I am compelled to tell my story right away to those of you who might appreciate it.
Since it is only 6:30 AM, a lot has already happened in my day.
Frieda and I have been talking about blogging. Yesterday (I think) I told her that I really couldn’t do a blog because my life is pretty routine. Nothing much happens. What would I ever write about?
I may have to rethink that today.
I was awakened from a somewhat fitful sleep at 5:20 this morning. I heard Tim’s door open, and then the dogs (who had been sleeping with him) came flying out and jumped on my bed, very excited. They were almost immediately followed by Tim, yelling “Get up! Get up! It’s an emergency!” An emergency? Seemed like a perfectly quiet rainy Friday morning. But who knows what constitutes “an emergency” to a 13 year old boy. So I opened my eyes, fought the dogs off me (they are now excited and both trying to lick my face), and sat up. What could it be?
“The cage fell over in my room, and the rats aren’t in the cage!”
Oh, no.
I realize, suddenly, that Tim’s pet rats --- Cleopatra and Hepsepshute – are loose in the house. Or worse (worse?) they have been captured and killed by either the dogs or the four cats. This house is a treacherous place for rodents.
I can’t even describe how motivated I was to get out of bed at that moment. Nothing like knowing there are rats in your house (or an awful mess to clean up) to get you out of bed.
Tim’s rats have an enormous cage. It can hold A LOT of shavings. A lot. They were all over Tim’s room, and tracked into the hall. No sign of the rats. No sign that the rats had been captured either. No blood. No dismembered tails. Just lots of shavings everywhere.
Tim and Julia and I grab flashlights and get down on our hands and knees. Under the bed….behind the desk….under the heating vent --- no sign of rats. (Keep in mind, Tim’s room – as is probably typical of most 13 year old boys) has a lot of STUFF in it. Lots of potential hiding places. No sign of rats.
Tim goes to the kitchen and gets a box of crackers. He starts putting crackers out around his room. “Maybe we can lure them out,” he says, “or at least they won’t starve if we don’t catch them.” He seems surprised when I vehemently object to FEEDING the rats that are apparently still alive and running around in the house.
Finally, Tim says, “Maybe they’re behind the bookcase. They always try to get back there.” I look. The bookcase is heavy, heavy wood. Packed with books, trophies, rock collections, toys, batteries, bits of whatever it is boys collect. It doesn’t look like there is any room behind the bookshelf – it is pretty snug against the wall. Can rats fit into a space less than ½ inch wide? I remember a hamster loose in my childhood home ….. we found him after several days. He seemed to be able to squeeze into any space. So maybe…? Is it possible I hear some scratching from behind the shelves..? But first we will have to take everything off the shelves……
We start hauling stuff off the shelves. “This is good,” I think. “I’ve been meaning to help Tim clear out some of this stuff.” In 5 minutes, every surface of Tim’s room is covered in stuff from the shelves. Well, except the rather large sections of the floor that are covered in soiled aspen shavings.
The shelves are heavy, but I manage to wiggle them forward about 2 inches. Sure enough – success! Both rats are there ---- but not for long. There is a little bit if scuffling and a few slapstick moments as the three of us (Ben is still sleeping) chase the rats around this now-extremely-cluttered room. But we catch them, they are safe, and they are no longer loose in the house.
Tim has a big mess to clean up. There are shaving everywhere, and they don’t vacuum well. He will have to pick most of them up by hand, and then vacuum the rest.
He objects to this, “It wasn’t MY fault the cage tipped over,” he protests.
We have a lovely discussion about the difference between “fault” and “responsibility”, and the fact that if something is your responsibility, then “fault” is irrelevant. I am not sure he gets it at all, but he is still cleaning up shavings, grumbling.
The bus comes in 10 minutes, so I think he will be buying lunch today --- even though it is junk food.
It is now after 7:00, and I need to get moving myself.
Maybe I should start a blog. I might find something to write about.
1 comment:
Jen this is a terrific story. Mental note to self - if we move forward on the pet-rodent front, get a very tight fitting lid...LOL
I think a blog is better than a journal - I love that you can add pictures.
It's amazing to look back a year or two and see where your life used to be.
Mal
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