Yesterday I left you with a cliffhanger; would my attempt at raticide work? It did! But it wasn’t beauty that killed the beast, it was the airplanes. No, it was actually the spring jaws trap that I tried first. Perhaps the poison would have worked given time. The glue traps were useless, it just burst its bonds. This was a superrat and it suffered for it. One of the places I placed the spring-loaded jaws traps was along the sink cabinet. Why? Because that was the path it took when scurrying away from me. One he pretty much ran over my feet. I didn’t feel him but I can’t see how he could have avoided it. I was standing at the sink. Yesterday as I was making dinner I was getting something out of the fridge. He spent a lot of his time on the shelves above the fridge. When I go into the kitchen he jumps down to scurry to a safer hiding place. That was why I placed the trap where I did. It was on his flight path. He jumped down from the shelves to the top of the fridge, down the side and onto the floor. He ran straight for the sink cabinet where he gets some partial cover, and right into the trap. It was so loud I almost jumped out of my skin. Sadly, the instant kill trap was not so instant. The rat was too big for the trap. He didn’t get his entire head in the jaws, just his snout, so his brain was not crushed. He struggled a bit before he succumbed. As much as I wanted him dead I did not like witnessing that. He was a big, most of his body lay outside the trap’s tunnel. My dinner was ready so I left him there while I ate. That also helped assume me he was dead. The trap is well designed. I put on gloves, and picked up the trap without touching the rodent. I held it over the garbage, opened the jaws, and he fell right out. I figured this was a respectful burial. He was interred in the food refuge he loved. I hope he was Jewish as that’s the only funeral rites I know. I said this elegy as I put the garbage bag down the shoot.
In the Bronx there lived, a mighty rat.
On my food he grew so very fat.
He hid on the shelf.
But he was no elf.
He even eluded the apartment cat.
Now that I’ve killed the fell beastie I think that should be remembered in my moniker. After killing the Dragon, Sigurd the Volsung was known as “Fafnir’s Bane.” I am no longer the stock comic figure, the cute merch guy, but a heroic figure, Gordon The Rat Killer! Beware my wrath. People will sing of my deeds as long as free people walk the earth.
Wise Madness 