Pierre grubbing on kitty chow.

Several days ago, I heard meowing coming from my backyard. My first thought was that one of the cats had gotten out and was crying for it’s mama (me). I went and looked, but no, it was a beefy grey cat. Yay! I’ve been wanting a yard cat for a while now. Why, you might wonder? Yard cats serve one main purpose (besides being awesome) they chase mice, rats, and voles away. Funny, we have all of those things.

Living in the forest, as we do, our yard is the perfect breeding ground for pests of all kinds. Over the last year, we’ve had issues with mice in the walls and attic. Matilda was good enough to kill one that set foot inside. We’d called an exterminator over the Summer; they set traps for a month, caught one, and were gone. Ever since then, we still hear the faint scratching of tiny claws in the walls. We recently found mouse poop in the TV room – which subsequently caused me to go on a cleaning frenzy. It wasn’t until one DIED somewhere in the walls (causing a horrific smell which overcomes the North side of the house) that we’ve gotten serious. AJB has stepped into his manly role as man of the house, setting traps, and disposing of (so far) one jumbo sized sewer rat. I love him so hard for that. However, I want nothing to do with it. I don’t even want to see the traps. The whole things grosses me out. I hate killing them, even though I know it has to be done. You really can’t trap and release them into the wild. Turns out, it’s illegal. So die they must, as sad as that is. I’ve come to accept that the health of my family and I is more important than “live and let live”.

Which leads me into the yard cat; the most eco-friendly way to deter rats in our immediate surroundings. In particular, our beefy little fellow, who I have named Pierre. I mean, seriously, you have to see the muscles on this cat; very impressive. Pierre started coming by a few days ago. Meowing and grubbing on any food I’d give him. He’s very sweet and let’s me pet him profusely. He also has a pair of fairly large testicles to further validate his machismo. He’s tough, but he’s also an adorable pussycat.

So now I’ve got this buff male cat prowling around my yard. It didn’t really occur to me that the indoor cats would be affected very much. Sure, they might get annoyed, but they’d quickly realize he’s out there and they’re in here. After all, we have critters coming up to the house all the time. Turns out, I should have worried a bit more. Pierre has set off Eva in a way I’ve never seen – except in those “when animals attack” shows. Whenever he’s around she hisses, spits, and yowls this unholy siren which escalates to violence aimed at whatever (or whomever) is nearest. She’s attacked both Matilda and Oatmeal and even blitzed the window screen. I mean, she’s really upset.

Eva, new to our home, has had a hard time acclimating to her new surroundings. She feels abandoned by her previous owner, scared of the world, is attempting to gain dominance, and has a tendency to lash out; even though she’s also very pleasant. This is a whole new world for her and she’s doing what cats do; reacting the only way she knows how. Except, we can’t tolerate violence. We’re working with her to keep her calm, show her we love her, but also make her aware that her actions are not acceptable. It’s going to take a long time. Cats don’t like change. In fact, they fight it.

Eva’s bad mood causes the other cats, who are happy to ignore Pierre, to become tense. We end up spending a good deal of time reassuring everyone that everything is fine. As for Pierre, he wants in the house. He sits at the back door meowing this pathetic little orphan meow, hoping I’ll open the door. I admit, I’m tempted because it’s Winter. I know, however, that he just can’t come in. I made him a bed and shelter; although I believe he’s sleeping under my car. I’m putting food and water out for him. I hope he’ll figure out that my old Nightmare Before Christmas throw is warm and comfy; the plastic bin will provide a better shelter. If he sticks around, I might invest in cat igloo.

I like that he comes by. He’s very agreeable, isn’t at all bothered by the indoor cats, and rather mellow. He’s taken to me and I’ve taken to him. He’s come to me for help and I’m going to give it to him. It’s what I do. JCS suggests that Pierre is more like The Tramp from “Lady and The Tramp”. On Tuesdays he’s Pierre at my house. On Wednesdays he’s Tony at the neighbor’s house. On Thursday, he’s Mittens down the street. Who knows? He came here for a reason and I won’t turn him away. There is a way to get all the cats to live harmoniously. I just have to find it. Meanwhile, more research and lots of and lots of belly rubs.

Merry Christmas.

We’ve had issues with mice in the walls and attic. You may recall my heartfelt letter to the rat family we would be annihilating. Since then, we occasionally hear scratching in the walls, but haven’t gotten around to the second onslaught. In September, my littlest baby, Matilda, caught and killed one that dared enter our domain.

Then there was the random slaying of a small bird which was subsequently left under our bed as a gift. We were in Illinois for Thanksgiving and came home to tails of our cleaning lady’s discovery. We’re not sure how it got in the house and we’re unable to determine who the did the killing and presentation. My best guess is Matilda. She’s already got one live-kill under her belt and she’s the kind of crazy cat that would leave us dead animals, she seems the likely choice.

“Something dead”, you see, is not a far stretch. We live in a rather rural, tree-filled area of Pasadena and this sort of thing has become commonplace for us. I don’t like it very much, but this is where we live. There are rats and possum and stray cats and deer and coyote and squirrels and raccoons…oh my.

When the exterminators came the last time, they sealed up the walls pretty good. I realized this wouldn’t be enough to keep them out. If mice and rats want to come in, they will. Turns out, rats can squeeze through a hole no bigger than the size of a quarter. Awesome. Sealed out and caught never meant that the “smart” rats wouldn’t remain in the attic happily living off…whatever they find up there. Most likely practicing cannibalism and strange rituals. This also never meant they couldn’t figure out new and exciting ways to get into the house. I figure they’re getting in through the outside basement and climbing up the walls. This also means, you can’t ever totally get rid of them. Not fully. A constant battle for years on end.

At first I thought the horrible smell coming from the bathroom was a backed up toilet. Living in an old house, that kind of stuff seems to happen all the time. I filled the toilet with enzymes to clear any potential blockage. I closed the door. Later that night, I showed AJB the smell and was nearly knocked on my ass from the sheer potency of it; it had been closed off in a small room for hours. I couldn’t stand it! It was the most horrible smell I’d ever smelled. It was awful. I almost barfed! I also couldn’t get the smell out of my brain. Ick, ick, ick!!!!! Hands down, worst smell I’ve ever encountered…in my life.

AJB confirmed my worst fear that some mystery animal had died somewhere, most likely in the walls or attic. OK, now what? I called the Humane Society for advice. They referred me to the “under the house guy”, the guy that’s crazy enough to go into your attic or under your house to retrieve animal corpses. Turns out, the “under the house guy” is indeed a bit crazy. The next day, he talked my ears off about what he does, how he does it, how much it costs (although we never got a straight answer), and how he might have to use a *saw-zaw to cut through the walls – something he didn’t want to do. He repeated himself several times, never let me talk, and interrupted me when I tried. I told him I had to talk to my husband; a woman’s most helpful tactic when dealing with contractors and work people. When he called later, I let AJB handle it so he could understand my colorful description of the guy. This guy was nuts, but we hired him anyway.

He showed up, a little guy with a Tom Hattan beanie. He went up in the attic, looked around and determined it was in the walls. All he could do was spray high powered deodorizer. We would have to wait until the smell dissipated on it’s own. In Winter, that could take a month or so. The animal would turn to dust and bones, forever trapped in our walls. Which made me wonder: How many other corpses are lodged between the walls of our 100 year old home? Probably dozens.

Until the smell goes away, that bathroom is closed for business. We’ve left the window open hoping the rain doesn’t get in and mold the place up. As an added bonus, my allergies have been off the hook for days. I suspect it’s a dead animal allergy.

Sometimes owning a house isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

*He actually meant Sawzall, but pronounced it “Saw-Zaw”.

Dear Rat Family,

What you don’t know is that today is the beginning of the end. You may have noticed a chubby man in a yellow shirt walking around the house yesterday? His name was Tom, but you can call him “The Exterminator”. He, or one of his co-workers, will bring about your final judgment.

I’m so sorry that it had to come to this. I called every pest controller in the area and tried to have your family re-located, but they all agreed you had to die. No one would capture you in humane traps and take you to a new home in the forest where your children could run around, climb trees, and nibble on things. One guy even laughed at me when I asked. I looked into natural remedies that might annoy you so you’d leave on your own, but it’s more work than I can put into it. It also means going into the creepy attic and scary basement, which I avoid if I can. I also understand it’s illegal to save and relocate rats.

I don’t blame you for setting up camp in my house and I’m not mad at you. My house is pretty great and there are a lot of nooks, crannies, dark spots, and shrubbery to make a fine home in. You, like me, just want to survive, be happy, and live your life. However, I must face the fact you’re not a little chef and you don’t wear clothes or talk. You have the potential to carry disease, you breed like rabbits, you poop all over the place, and you’re probably why my allergies have been off the hook lately. I know you’re just doing what you do, but the cons outweigh the pros.

Today traps will be set and the slaughter will begin. You’ll go about your merry way, spot a tasty treat and go for it. You’ll think you’ve hit the jack-pot. After struggling to feed your family all these months, you’ll attempt to grab that tasty morsel and within an instant, a metal spring will snap and a bar will come crashing down on your skull. If you’re lucky, it will be instantaneous. At least one of your kin will encounter the trap and find that he’s pinned with a broken spine, still alive, dying slowly. At night, I’ll hear the traps snapping and cringe. I fully expect to cry. But what are my tears worth when I am essentially playing God and bringing about your doom?

As one by one, your family members take the bait, die, and are removed, you won’t learn anything. You won’t see the tiny corpses of your children and think to yourself, “I might not want to go after that delicious treat.” You’re smart, but you’re not that smart.

It’s not fair and nothing I can say will take away from the fact that I gave the order to have you killed. I wish there was a different way, but like you, I must take care of my family first. I’m sorry I’m not a better person and despite all my talk about saving the planet, loving animals, and being a vegetarian for 17 years, I am a failure. I failed your family.

Good-bye little rat family. I can’t say I’ll miss you, but I am sorry.

Within minutes, I had several responses:

Great post.

I had rats once at a house I lived in in Venice on Walgrove.

We set the traps and we listened to the SNAPPS!! It was rough. Rats are strong smart animals.

One of the trapps snapped and you could hear the rat crying and screaming for a long while. My girlfriend at the time was an anamial lover and she freeked out and was ugly.

I am going to move into an old family house w/ skunks and rats in a few weeks. As much as it hurts, all those skunks and rats are going to die, and thats just the way it is.

….AAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHH*@#$%!!
That was great.
Now substitute the subject “rat” with “illegal” and it would take on a whole new application.

Dear landlord,

I am dismayed that you are choosing such a hostile act as poison to evict my family and I. If you continue in this course of action my family and I will be forced to declare jihad against you. Die you insolent american!! We will do our best to die inside walls where the stink of our moldering corpses will be as the sweet stench of Allah’s breath, and the most bothersome to you yankee scum. The kitchen wall behind the oven will be first, then the wall behind that new 52″ lcd flat panel sounds about right. Ohh, the irony. Imagine trying to watch my movie star cousin Ratatoulie while little abdul is stinking just inches from that nice warm lcd tv. Next would be where your bed goes against the wall. Every night you will be thinking of me, as you you try to go to sleep. Sleep well american scum.

Fiesal

I had to email you and express what a fantastic writer you are. That was amazing. You had me giggling, choking up, and feeling such empathy for your plight. Very sincere and blunt at the same time. You’re doing the right thing, rats are definitely a danger to your health. Good luck, I hope you don’t hear the traps going off too much.

The guy who wanted to exchange “rats” for “illegals” is apparently a racist sonofabitch. The guy that wrote the Jihad response is obviously thinking of Fieval from the animated film “An American Tail”. People are so funny.

Anyway, I do feel guilty, but like cockroaches, you can’t mess around. Once they’re in your house, it’s us or them. *sigh* Sometimes life isn’t fair. I have to do it, but I feel really bad.