Today’s mischief wasn’t caused by any permanent occupants of Flo’s house, but by unwanted house guests.
I have known there’s been a rat in the storeroom for several weeks. It was nibbling away at the lambs’ ears I had for the dogs. In the past I’ve used an ultra sonic pulse thingie which is supposed to encourage rodents to seek out alternative living arrangements. When that didn’t work, about a month ago I put a humane trap down, baited with the last of the ears. The lamb’s ear is still there, untouched so I thought Ratty must’ve moved on. That was until I started to get a distinct whiff of eau de rodent earlier on this week. Thursday was a public holiday so I had a few jobs that needed to be done, one of which was waterproofing a couch that is to go up on the deck upstairs but which has, until now, been hidden away in the store room, out of reach of the jaws of destruction. It’s removal gave me better access to the room, so George was brought down to earn his keep and find the rat. Slightly surprisingly and to his credit, he instantly picked up on the scent and went off into the corner, where he sat and stared. I could hear a little scritching and scratching but couldn’t work out exactly where this blasted thing was. Until I moved my golf bag. And George’s gaze remained fixed on it. Let’s just say it was an interesting manoevre that saw me exit the door over the golf bag. I did manage to get the bag out as well, without any rodents running up my arms or legs. I lay it down on its side and out ran the offending beast, off into the bushes. Phew! To my horror another rat exited the bag while I was taking the clubs out to give them a wash and straight back into the store room, where I suspect it still is. What if there was a nest of them? Urgh! I know, I know, I’m supposed to be a zoologist, but that doesn’t mean I want a family of furry, stinky little mammals living IN my golf bag. The clubs were unceremoniously yanked out at arms’ length and the whole bag tipped upside down and banged on the floor.
At that point the snake skin came out. Minus the snake. The bag lay downstairs undisturbed for several hours while I
poured myself a stiff gin worked out what to do with it. Four gin and tonics later I eventually plucked up the courage to have a good look inside and am pleased to report that there was nothing else living in there. I haven’t been brave enough to unzip any pockets. I’m not sure whether or not the snake skin is an attempt at rodent humour and they’ve just found it somewhere and used it to line their nest, or if the snake was in there at some point too. I’m also not sure where they found the skin, if it wasn’t already in the bag.
Proof, were it needed, that I don’t play enough golf. 🙂