Adventures in Urban Living, Part 3

As we left Part 2 of our adventure with Ratzo, the huge rodent

who had taken up residence in our home, we were waiting for

him to get hungry enough to sample some of the yummy dried

fruits, nut butters and whole nuts we had diligently glued to

the rat traps. I had forgotten to mention that Kevin, the

exterminator, was fairly sure Ratzo had gained entry via our

doggie door. I have been petitioning for removal of the doggie

door for several years, but the hubby is sufficiently opposed

to the idea, as to make it a huge issue. Those of you in a

relationship know that you must choose carefully the things

about which to make an issue, so I have thus far, caved on

doggie door removal. However Kevin did give me fresh

ammunition should the subject arise again,which seems

inevitable. Kevin has removed raccoons, rats, stray cats,

squirrels and chipmunks, all of whom have considered a

doggie door an open invitation to join the family.

But I digress. Back to the waiting.

The wait went on for some time and we actually began to

think that Ratzo had eaten the poison and left our abode

in search of water. Why we would think that shows just how

self deceptive we can be! The dog has a huge self-waterer,

plus there are two bathrooms in our house, both with open

(most of the time) toilets, plus there is a small pond in the

yard, not more than fifty feet from the doggie door. But

that was what we chose to believe. It was easier than facing

humiliation at the paws of Ratzo. Daily checks of the rat

traps continued to fruitless. (Well, actually the fruits

remained in the traps, but you get my drift)

In the midst of this self deception, came a Friday afternoon.

Raymond had been home all day and was being domestic by

cooking dinner. I walked into the house around 6 PM. Even

before my 'hi, honey' kiss, I asked, "What is that smell?"

Raymond explained he was making dinner, which included

cabbage. OK. It was a very cold day, leading into a very cold

weekend. Our boiler was working at capacity to keep our

radiators dispensing heat in our drafty old house. Ratzo was

not even a blip on our radar.

We had dinner, played Scrabble and vegged out in front of the

TV watching Seinfeld reruns till bedtime.

In the morning, Raymond was up, as is his habit, at 4:30 AM.

I stumbled downstairs about two hours later. As I hit the

bottom of the stairs, my senses were assaulted by a horrific

stench! Raymond, who is smeling impaired and thinks I

have super human olfactory capabilities, said, when

questioned, "That's just the cabbage from last night". I

didn't think so. I mean, would the smell have gotten

stronger overnight? As I walked around sniffing like some

sort of demented human-bloodhound combo, I noted

the smell was, indeed, stronger in the kitchen. How could

he have been reading and watching Sports Center with this

overwhelming stink in the air? As my quest for the source

of the offensive odor evolved, I noted that while it was strong

in the kitchen, it definitely increased in intensity in the area

near our old fashioned wall-mounted kitchen sink. There is

a short radiator under the sink and when I bent down to sniff

in that vicinity, I almost threw up. Further investigation with

a flashlight showed that the originating source of the odor was

indeed, a large, dead, bloating rat! He had died under the

kitchen radiator, was swelling in the heat and was wedged

under the back, near the wall. He was still intact, but might

not be for much longer, if we didn't get him out soon. I reached

behind the radiator, my hand triple ensconced in green plastic

newspaper bags, but I couldn't get a good grip. Raymond went

to find a length of scrap wood to push Ratzo from under the

radiator, back toward the back wall and a space where I might

be able to pick him up. I was a little concerned that if I yanked

too hard, his head might detach from his body and that was to

be avoided at all costs! Raymond poked under the radiator

and moved Ratzo from under the radiator into the smallish space

between the radiator and the wall. Allow me to point out that

Raymond had first acted as the reach and bag person, but the

smell had made him retch, so I took over the reach and bag

operation. I managed to grab him, flip the plastic bag inside

out, and tie it, a movement well known to city dwellers who

practice the move when picking up after their critters when

walking them. We then triple bagged the sucker and boxed

his remains before placing them in the outside trash bin. I

actually did a dance of joy that Ratzo was dead. I mean,

I was in a celebratory mood! As I proceeded to clean and

disinfect the kitchen, I was singing a happy little 'Ratzo's

dead' ditty. Raymond was very quiet. Later, as we had coffee

Raymond showed his true colors. He said, "I'm really sorry

we had to kill him."

At first, I questioned his sanity.

I asked what his alternative would've been.

Then, finally, I let it go.

This is one of the reasons I love Raymond. He has more

compassion, even for the Ratzos of this world, than most

other people I know. Sometimes, urban living can be a trial,

but as long as Raymond and I are together, it's a trial I can

deal with. And although Raymond is compassionate,

I am practical.

There in lies the balance ...

... and the danger for all those Ratzos out there!