Wednesday, May 30, 2012
So, I see this picture on Face Book and it reminds me of a story . . . .
When we first moved into this house (it was Bill's great-grandparents and built in under a month January of 1930) the previous tenants, not sure how to put this, cleaning impaired. I was 9 months pregnant with Jessika, and it was February, not a real warm month.
Within a couple hours of settling in, Bill saw a rat. No, not a bad person, a real honest to goodness furry flea bitten rat! And that was the beginning, it was WAR!
I was still in high school when we married. Since I had some difficulty with the pregnancy, I was put on home rest and the school sent out tutors twice a week so I wouldn't be behind. Bill and also gotten me a toy poodle to keep me company, his name was Tinker (but that is a whole nother story). So my tutor comes, a very nice proper lady. We are in my lesson when Tinker went nuts and came tearing through the house chasing a rat. I opened the back door, they ran out, I grabbed a broom a followed them, leaving the tutor wide eyed and dropped jawed at the table. So after a lap around the yard (remember I am 9 months preggers), the rat ran under the trash barrels. I picked up Tink and looked for bites, he was fine, so I went back in and finished my lesson. Neither the tutor or I said anything about the chase.
Jessika came along. We were worried about the rats. Bill had put poison out, but we didn't want to take chances, so Jess slept in our room. One evening I was in the laundry room, I felt something soft under my foot, I assumed it was on of the stuffed animals Jessika had gotten (that Tink claimed as his own). I bent over to grab it while turning on the light. You guessed it, not a stuffed animal. I think the scream and my jump onto the dryer took about a sec. Bill heard and came in and took the dead rat out, we think he had gotten into the poison.
We were making a dent, but could still hear one digging under the floor of the kitchen. One night the digging started up and Bill was MAD. He got up and I went back to sleep. A short while later I realized Bill was not in bed. So I got up and headed into the kitchen. There was Bill. My white fuzzy robe, his work boots, a smoke on one side of his mouth and a shot gun and flashlight in his hands, just waiten on the rat to poke his head up. After a few minutes I was able to get him back to bed, I can't imagine the damage my kitchen would have incurred if that shotgun had gone off.
So, when I saw that picture it reminded me so much of that night. I miss those fun wild days and nights. The rats however can stay gone!!!
Posted by Deb at 7:11 PM
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