Well now we know. He is a She and She is officially living in the cellar. According to our new friend The Rat Catcher who arrived on the eve of The Annual Halloween Party with his intrepid terrier Maisy, she is looking for somewhere to Have A Litter.
While we pride ourselves on offering guests the highest standards here at Toad’s Mouth, we have never extended the welcome to rats. Especially doe rats with pressing nursery requirements.
And as keen as I am to put this rather unsavoury topic behind us, until I can bring news of our unwelcome resident’s departure – sudden or otherwise, I am afraid I continue to be consumed with rats as a specialist subject.
There are now traps secreted at a number of locations inside and outside the house, baited with dog biscuits and set to fly at the slightest vibration on the wooden tread plate
The Rat Catcher seems to think the last rat met his maker in the talons of an owl who inadvertently dropped him on the trampoline as he took off over the copse.
The new one, he assures me, can expect a somewhat swifter demise beneath a spring-loaded bar of stainless steel.
Having pronounced the white plastic box trap that Gaylord purchased from the local agricultural merchants utterly useless, The Rat Catcher gave Maisy the run of the house and then showed us the route that Doe has been using.
Droppings in an old carpet roll in the cellar, claw marks and tail swipes on the boiler up to the air vent, paw marks in the dust on the cellar shelves and chewed carpet by the skirting board in the hallway.
“Don’t worry,” he told us. “She won’t be troubling you much longer.”
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