Thursday, October 3, 2013
Only in Tonga
We have a rat problem.
In the past, this has been easily solved by sticky traps. We put them out, a rat walks across it, it gets stuck, we throw the sticky trap in the trash pile.
That was until The Beast. Seriously, this rat is the size of a puppy, perhaps bigger. It has wreaked havoc in our kitchen.
I heard it earlier this week, and went to investigate. I was not prepared for its size. Of course Mark thought I was exaggerating until today, when he got his first look at it.
If this helps you know how to feel about, Buster whimpers any time it's near the house.
Mark abandoned me tonight to go drink kava. As I lie in bed playing what I can only assume is my 10,000 th game of solitaire, I heard a sudden thrashing about such as would be made by a large animal, say, a deer. Yes, I think, we have trapped The Beast on our sticky trap. As I hear more thrashing, I begin to wonder if perhaps the rodent is running about with said sticky trap attached to him. To accurately paint the picture you need to know that we had noticed earlier in the day that the sticky trap had caught yet another rodent, but hadn't had the time to throw it out yet when The Beast made his appearance. As this is our last trap, we thought best just to leave it be awhile longer. So, as I hear this thrashing, I wonder the state of these two rodents.
I carefully untuck the mosquito netting. I run to the living room and immediately stand atop a chair. I wait. All is silent. I pick up the chair next to me, run the short distance to the light switch, put the chair down, jump on top of it, and turn on the light. I hear a loud noise. I wait. I jump to the next chair, crawl across the table, and arrive at the chair closest to the mouse. I see signs of a struggle. Half of the sticky trap is covered by a piece of wood (yes, apparently there is one lone piece of timber in my kitchen...I have no idea why or when it got there). I can tell The Beast has escaped.
As I stand on the chair contemplating my next move, there's a knock on my door. One of my students. Yes, I shout, come in quick. In he comes, and he doesn't even ask why I'm atop the chair.
He walks right to me, asks for the grill part from in our oven, I say yes, he opens the oven, and takes it out.
I tell him about my giant rat. He yells goodnight.
So much for my knight in shining armor. When did these kids get used to my antics?