Morning, all.
Recently, I've been at war with a few rats that are determined to nest in my garage...and I've been losing. After killing a large buck (about a month ago) with a traditional rat trap, the remaining mischief has learned to set off the trap and come back later to get the bait. Sunday morning I noticed that they'd found a way on top of the upright freezer in the garage to raid a box of Milk Bones. I cleaned up the mess, found a sealed plastic container for the dog treats, and reset the trap. By that evening, they'd done their trick with the trap. I went to the shopping list and added poison traps. I've had enough of the bastards.
Last night, I went out to the garage to retrieve my cell phone from the car (I leave that thing everywhere) and when I turned on the lights a kit darted from under my car to the back wall of the garage. I heard a rustling to my immediate right. My eyes snapped over by the freezer. Perched atop the handle of my golf ball retriever was a buck rat about the size of my forearm. Instant rage threw me into action faster than I would have believed possible and without thinking I stepped forward with my left foot and lifted my right leg and Chuck Norrised that fucker against the wall. The dazed rat fell into the bottom Mrs. P's gardening bucket. Panting, it tried to be still down among the hand gardening implements. I really didn't want to reach in there so I looked around for something to jab him with. While I did, he must have gotten his wind back because he leaped out of the bucket and ran toward the front of the garage. The chase was on. I caught up with him as he dodged behind a couple of loops of my air hose. I rammed the toe of my shoe through the hose to pin him against the baseboard but only grazed his hind quarters. He wall-walked away from my foot and as he came down to the concrete to dash away I reflex stomped on the back of his neck. Apparently, Sketchers boat shoes aren't meant for rat killing because he took off when I lifted my foot, ran under my car, and drunkenly shot out the other side to run head first into the side my snowblower. I heard the ding sound of his skull against the metal as I rounded the car to see him sprawled on his belly apparently dazed. I slowed down with the intention of carefully aiming the heel of my shoe down onto his head, which was a mistake. He jumped and ducked behind a dutch oven which gave him access to hole in the south wall and took his leave.
Adrenaline was roaring in my ears as I grabbed my cell phone from the car. When I got back to the entrance my dog was waiting for me, sitting on his haunches, tail wagging and his tongue hanging out the side of his worthless mouth. Stupid, fucking Labradoodle! No more treats for his old ass.
Tl;dr: I hate rats and my dog is an asshole.
Topic: DTF chat thread v. 2049 (Read 236074 times)
