I Smell a Rat!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Remember the blog I just wrote where I got all touchy feely about sleeping with Fudge?  Well, scratch what I said and let me start over.  Circumstances have changed here and I now want to keep Fudge in a crate at night so she cannot touch me.  I think once I get done with my story, everyone will agree with me.

 

The other night, John had a business dinner and the dogs and I were home alone.  Now, normally this is a good thing, because when John says he won’t be home for dinner, it frees up a large part of my day…..the part where I try and come up with another reason why I didn’t cook dinner that night.  I am running out of excuses and even went so far one night as to act all surprised when he came home on time and said, “What are you doing home? I thought you had dinner out tonight.” I knew darn well he didn’t have a dinner that night and he probably knew I knew as well, but it is just easier for John to play along rather than admit we don’t always hear what the other one is saying and risk having to have a talk about communicating better.  Regardless of my skilled performance, worthy of an Oscar, most bad things happen around here when John is at work. In addition, he is almost always unreachable by phone, as if he thinks I should handle emergencies on my own.  Sometimes, I think he looks at his phone screen, sees my name come up, and says to himself, “I think I will let my little friend, Mr. Voicemail, handle this call.”  You would think he would learn by now that sooner or later I will get a hold of him in either a “you won’t believe what just happened” mode or a “why can’t you ever pick up your damn phone?” mode.  Those modes are usually easily recognizable by the tone and volume of my voice when I tell the story.

 

Well, I was happy the other night. Content to grab take out somewhere and settle in for a relaxing night with full control of the remote control.   That didn’t happen.  I was outside taking photos when I noticed Fudge was very intent on something under a pine tree that borders the nearby farmer’s field.  I know the look she has when she in hunting and pretty soon, Vern decided to check out what she was doing, and before I knew what hit me, I could tell they cornered something.  This is usually when I start praying that whatever is cornered might make a miraculous leap over both Doodles and escape and put the word out to all his friends to stay out of our yard or else.  When this doesn’t happen, my next prayer is that whatever is cornered looks fluffy and sweet even in death and does not scare me.  Almost always, my prayers go unanswered the way that I would like them to be answered, and I end up being grossed out and wondering why I thought I needed a dog in the first place.  That is exactly what happened the other night when Fudge looked up at me with a dead RAT in her mouth.  I knew instantly what it was, but I let my mind try to trick me for fear I would pass out, and tell me maybe it was only a squirrel with a hairless tail or a rabbit with a string attached to its back end. I am not sure why one dead animal would be better than another, but a rat conjures up images of dirty and nasty and horror movies.

 

Since I have never seen a rat anywhere in our vicinity and told myself they only live in the heart of big cities or sewers, the rat was a big surprise and I did what I usually do in this kind of situation and started screaming.  That got Vern’s attention and he immediately ran to me and I threw him in the car. Fudge, however, had adrenaline pumping through her after her big kill and it took banging on our trashcan with a shovel and more screaming, before she decided I was dead serious, dropped the horrible creature, and jumped in the car. After that, I ran around the yard a little like a chicken with her head cut off, texted John that we lived in a rat hole, and prayed he answered my text or at least called 911 on my behalf. When no cavalry showed up to help me out, I did the next best thing and summoned my neighbor for help.  I doubt he will be back, since as he shoveled up the dead animal and walked towards me to dispose of it deep in our woods, I continued to scream, “stay away from me, RAT!” and finally jumped in the car. My neighbor kept saying, “Laurie, I am just walking by you to get to the woods. I am not going to put it on you.” I am sure he could feel my level of trust as I locked the car door.  Later, he tried to reassure me that the rat had come up from the cornfield, but at that point, I didn’t care if he was Templeton from Charlotte’s Web and was there to crack jokes about a pig and a spider. It is hard to continue to deny that unwanted critters live in cornfields if you keep seeing them and hearing about them.

 

Even in the safety of my locked car, I did not feel all that safe, because the “rat killer” and her brother were locked in there with me.  I didn’t see Vern do anything with the creature, but he was down there and as far as I was concerned was guilty by association.  To be safe, I asked both of them to never come near me again.  When I close my eyes, I can still see Fudge standing there with that rat hanging out of her mouth and Vern standing there, not sure what was happening, but liking all the excitement. Truly, if I had a nightmare, this would be my third worst-case scenario, right behind both of them holding a rat or a snake.

 

Needing reassurance, I called a friend.  In a situation like this, there are two types of friends you can have…the one who giggles and makes one-liners at your moment of crisis or a better friend.  Unfortunately, the friend I chose to call was with her twin sister in the car and could barely contain her mirth as I retold the rat story.  The two of them were yelling stuff like “make sure you brush and floss Fudge’s teeth tonight,” and “uh oh, I hear once they taste rat crack, they never go back,” and then they would erupt into giggles.  It really was so bad, that it turned out they got all the way home before they realized they had met back at some parking lot and needed to go back there and pick up a car.  Neither learned their lesson in Karma, because my friend continues to write comments like “I smell a rat,” when I post a picture of Fudge on Facebook and I am starting to think she doesn’t give a rat’s ass that I am really grossed out.  Luckily, my family was far more helpful and when I called Megan, she said, “mom, Fudge is a dog!” and when I said, “well, in that case, I think I just found the perfect baby gift for you and her name is Rats,” she told me I was being dramatic.  Hayley said, “Gross!” and told me she was not going to help me move out and John told Fudge he was proud of her, which felt like he did not fully grasp that my shuddering, convulsing, retching, and nervous tics, meant I viewed this as something negative that Fudge did.  He did mention that Rat Terriers were trained to kill rats and managed to get his ears plugged before I yelled, “I bought Labradoodles…NOT Ratoodles!”

 

This happened over a week ago and Fudge and I are slowly re-building our relationship. I am no longer slathering up with soap and water every time we touch. I still don’t want kisses, but now instead of saying, “don’t touch me, you little rat killer,” I am finally able to say, “I love you, you little rat killer.”  I know she is just a dog and was doing what dogs do, but I won’t be sorry when she goes back to being an ornery little princess in my mind and the only image I have in my head of her with something in her mouth is a tennis ball.

P.S. I did call the vet immediately and she was not terribly concerned since Fudge was current on all shots. She also questioned if the farmer put down any poison in the field, but felt again, we were safe because the rat was entirely intact. No more gross details, but all seems fine. The farmer has been harvesting his wheat and plowing in the field.

[Miss Ellie]

Oh Laurie...I feel & share your pain...I am no good in that type of scenario...I am the typical stereotype...woman sees a mouse...screams and stands on a chair...while my knight in shining armor husband saves the day...too funny:)

[Sheila & Finnley]

Laurie... Laurie... Laurie, a rat got you all worked up like this ? You poor woman, AND I don't mean a Pioneer kind of woman either. I think you are probably a reincarnation of a very pampered princess from long looooong ago.

My mind recreating you banging a garbage can with a shovel, all in a panicked frenzy, sends waves of intense laughter through me.

Poor Fudge, one minute a mommy's girl, the next she is the pariah of the family.

She is lucky to at least have Vern. I am sure he never once judged her for her slight

faux pas. He probably even enjoyed the tantalizing waft of her rat  breath !

I hope that you, and your therapist can figure your most extreme anxieties, and you will be able to move forward !

Hugs  to you for your speedy recovery

[Janie, Jackson and Jilly]

A rat of all things?! Was it big.. have yet to come across one of those treasures! I'm wondering why you all headed for the car and not the house! Lol I finally got over myself and will pick up Jilly's dead birds now, but I'm not above calling my Dad.. who's in his 80s.. over for help on any other critters if Tom isn't home. Sometimes we get critters in the pool. I give Jilly a complete bath whenever she captures something and then it'll take some time before I accept her kisses again! I was half dreading a photo, love the one you chose!

[BG and Gavin]

Yikes.  No picture of the rat?  Way to go Fudge!

[Cheryl and Finnegan]

Oh YUCK!!!  I can so feel your pain!! I would have been locked in the car too calling 911.  Oh wait, I did that with a groundhog… I hope you can recover from you post traumatic stress syndrome.  I think John owes you a nice vacation.  PS I'd love to see a list of your excuses for not cooking dinner :) 

[Karen, Jasper and Jackdoodle]

It could have been worse. She could have brought it into the house. Or it could have been your first worst-case scenario, which is also mine. I have still never gotten over that video Tina posted. 

I once asked my neighbor to remove a dead legless-reptile-whose-name-begins-with-s from the side yard of my old house. I did not stick around to watch. He later informed me that it had not been dead, just stunned. 

See, I told you it could have been worse. :)

And that photo of Fudge is stunning!