11 October 2006

Fink Rat

They should  be running scared out there if not actually crawling away to die a horrible death in some nook inaccessible to hound Sam.

Instead, they are sitting around some water hole giggling their ratty tails off at me.

In my quest to make Ranchero Busker a rodent-free zone, I have taken advice from all quarters:

  • Mama read somewhere that a whiff of tar will send them shrieking into the next county
    • I get myself (and much of the house and surroundings) thoroughly murky daubing the mucky stuff here and there (mostly *here* about my person)
  • Mountain man and lion of the nightcrew, the canny apond, tells me that a dab of ammonia behind the ears will speak of a 'serious cat presence'.
    • Jars all over the house - and blimey, that stuff don't half hit the nostrils if you stand over the open jar.
  • Pet store bloke shows me pills that they nosh on and crawl off to meet the Maker.
    • Succulent plates of the pills are distributed all around

I'm left with the residue which I put downstairs in the toolshed, on a high shelf and all at one end: jar with tar; ammonia bottle; plate of pills.

I go down today to fetch the shears to trim the Judas Tree and I happen to glance at the shelf: absolutely covered in rat droppings all  around the tar and ammonia and particularly *in* the plate of poison which they clearly enjoyed and came back for seconds.

What galls me is that this is not an easy shelf to get to so they must really  have wanted to sample the fare.

Dude Rat: 'Ullo doll, fancy coming out for some nosh and a bit of slap 'n' tickle after?

Babe Rat: Ooh, cheeky - you are a one. OK then, where we goin' then?

Dude: Well, it's a bit of a climb but werf it when ya gets there. Luverly food - you know, bit of home cooking, bit of exotic, and they do a luverly ammonia tiramisu

Babe: Ooh, I love ammo' tiramisu.

Dude: Orlrite then, we'll take my bike. Hang on tight

Babe: Cheeky!

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