I can’t stand things that signify dirt; crawlies, roaches and rats.
I’m usually miffed when I go friends visiting and I find rats racing, panting and playing up and down in your living room.
I sure would be embarrassed on your behalf.
Don’t judge is one of the old testament commandments, but hey, that could make me not drink water in your house.
Oh dear me, I hate rats.
Scruffy. Smelly. Ugly.
Your environment must be significantly dirty to have them around is usually my thought.
Then one evening last week. Spread out on my couch at home. Lounging lazily and perfectly at peace with myself. I noticed a dash across the room.
Straight outta my bedroom area, a tiny lil tot. An obvious rat.
I jumped up from whence I was, almost with a shiver, rushing in the direction it had zapped to. Dodged under my console. I gave the console a rude awakening, a mightily dirty push. There it was, the poor unwanted soul.
I said to me, this is the end for you. I pushed again, angrily; with thoughts in my mind also saying:
“You’ll be stone dead in a bit”
Then it disappeared.
Did it jump so fast down the staircase I wondered or did it slip in through the round hole bored at the back of the console ?
I searched the kitchen, luckily the door to other areas downstairs was firmly shut.
I hardly open my doors downstairs for one to have come in. I probed and found out it must have come in through the drainage pipe of the bathroom downstairs. Ahhhhhhhh.
This is the fourth day and I’m still on the lookout, searching.
Was it solo and all alone or accompanied ?
The rat has not been seen nor found. Not a single trace ever since.
Asking. Pondering. Wondering.
Where’d he go ?
@ O’Shine ORIGINAL