Beastie.

Since we returned from Thanksgiving, we've been suffering with a beastie. At first we heard the little scritching on the wall behind the sink in the soon-to-be demo'd bathroom. I had to remind dear protectorate that taking a sledge hammer to the wall to try to "chase it out and get it" was not wise when a contractor was not waiting in the wings to do the repairs. Then additional evidence of this guest/pest was discovered and

a sticky trap was set.

we caught a roach.

a snapping trap was set with banana (it's favored treat when venturing forth in the house).

nada.

the trap was set with peanut butter (a trick from my brother.)

the trap itself was nibbled upon.

"it's like he's mocking us!" dear protectorate announces the following morning. And I shook my head with every memory of every movie/joke/foible of man trying to catch a mouse. The mouse is always more clever than the man.

[interlude here where I began calling rodent ridder folks. Those that bothered to call me back where not available until after New Year's. Those that did scared me with prices, rattled off statistics of how many rats were probably REALLY nesting in my wall, set up an appointment and then failed to show up or call me. *Sigh* and here's where I would link to my soon to be written diatribe against plumbers...]


chocolate was added to the mix (thanks dawn.)

And then, dear protectorate, the man at my side who calmly slept through every whimper of night waking for the last FIVE YEARS heard the little imp get itself stuck in the trap and the deed was completed and disposed of in the wee hours of the morning.

ah. This is one of those really happy times when I'm happy for dear protectorate. (even if his hearing has proved to be entirely selective.)