It began on Thursday night. Momsy came to my room while I was at my desk. She whispered slowly, “Charmaine, don’t go into the kitchen for the time being…”
I froze at my seat. Momsy doesn’t use my full name unless it’s something serious. “Why?? Is there a ghost??”
She looked kinda weak.. “No. I saw a rat. I’ve closed the kitchen door, the back door is closed too..”
Phew. It wasn’t a ghost. Don’t ask me why but that was the first thing that came to my mind.
“Okay, let’s catch it then.”
Knowing how my mom reacts in such situations (think: the New Zealand trip where our car’s window got smashed), I had to continuously tell her, “please calm down. Stop freaking out.”
I told her I’d go into the kitchen.
“Are you sure? You’re wearing a dress.”
Good point. I came home from work, and was wearing a short, golden tube dress. Not rat-appropriate. Went back up and changed into a t shirt and a pair of boxers. And I bunned my hair up.
I wore my wellies (afraid the mouse would charge at me and bite my toes and deliver rabies), and went into the kitchen. It was warm, the air wasn’t circulating, I was perspiring.
Searched every cupboard, found nothing. Neither was it under the fridge. Momsy’s guess was that it may have gone to the washing area. It would be trapped then. There’s no escape for the rat. My washing area is netted up (since the dengue scare). No mosquito enters the home, much less a rat. But it begs the question, did the rat then enter our gates as we returned home?
It was a long search. My helper, dad and I went crazy knocking every surface and cupboard. No sign of the rat. It must have escaped then.
The brother added in useless comments, that he was sure the rat was under the fridge, I snapped. Mostly because I had searched under the fridge, I used long sticks to sweep the base, and there was nothing. I couldn’t have been so stupid right? Oh, and he refused to enter the kitchen to help. That got me immensely irritated.
I searched all the cupboards. Twice. They were a mess. Rat or no rat, I made it my personal mission to clear them the next day. And clear them I did. I got rid of so many useless bags, mugs and containers. We had three black trash bags full by the time I was done. I organised the cupboards. It took a good three hours. I gave myself the excuse that it was a form of exercise. After all, I had tried to jog, only to stop due to rain. Then I went to the gym and got bored after 10minutes. The rain had stopped by then so I changed into my swimwear and headed to the pool. As I stepped outside my house, the rain drops came back. Ah well, such is life.
By evening I had obviously put the rat at the back of my head. Momsy offered much useless info on how big the rat was, and it’s colour. Black, palm sized. I had to quieten her. “If there’s a rat, I’ll catch it.”
We sat at the dining room doing our own things.
-squeak-
Dad, Momsy and I froze at our seats. I turned my computer off and got my wellies. Dad and I went into the kitchen.
The back door was closed. The rat must still be in the kitchen then. Still, no sign of it. I held an led-torchlight in one hand, golf club in another. Dad held a butterfly net. We have a heap of butterfly nets, yes, we use them to catch Mosquitos.
I got down to checking the fridge. The gap between the fridge and floor was tiny, I had to press my cheeks against the cold tiles. Even then, my vision was poor. My right eye looked at the fridge, my left, the empty gap. I had to shut my right eye.
It was unmistakable. There was something long and skinny.
“Dad the rat is under the fridge. Come have a look”
Dad came to my level and peeked.
“No it isn’t, it’s just the wheel.”
“No, it’s behind the first wheel, further back to the left, just in front of the back wheel.”
“I don’t see it.”
Perfect sight doesn’t run in the family, obviously. Near the back door, dad spotted rat poop. Yup, the rat was definitely in the kitchen. We made a note not to go near the poop.
I refused to give up. Stupid rat.
I went back to the floor. With the torchlight, and my left eye (the good one), I used the end of a butterfly net to prod the “weird thing I saw”.
It moved ever so slightly.
“Dad, it’s really the rat. It moved a little.”
Dad peered behind the fridge.
“Yup, I see its tail.”
We motioned to Momsy and the brother who had been offering unhelpful albeit supportive comments. The commotion was getting to me. Times like these, my brain stops processing words of emotion. I focus on getting the job done, everything else -save for instructions- gets tuned out. I only had one goal, to catch the damn pest.
My helper woke up, possibly from the noise. She joined us in the mousehunt. I stood on the left side of the fridge, ready with my butterfly net. My helper took the centre position, using a stick to sweep the fridge’s gap. Dad stood on the right.
We were ready to strike. Our positions were set. The rat was cornered. Well, unless it ran to the front, which meant my helper would come face to face with it.
My helper started sweeping. In five seconds, the rat ran out. Right into my dad’s net.
It was black, and tiny, just as Momsy said.
I held my breath. The rat ran anticlockwise inside the net, causing the net to twist around its body. Every circle made trapped the rat further. Well, unless it ran clockwise, but given the state it was in, it probably didn’t think too much.
The rat had stopped moving. There wasn’t space for it to run around. I passed my helper some newspapers, using them as gloves, just in case the rat bit her. I took a couple of plastic bags. And fumbled. They dropped onto the floor and I hastily picked them up.
Shit.
No really, I touched the rat shit. I had totally forgotten about the poop on the floor. Ah well, I’ll wash my hands later.
What do we do with the rat then? We’ve caught it, but now what? I stood there, blank faced. I guess we could throw the rat into a plastic bag, use five more plastic bags to seal it in, throw it into the rubbish bin, let the men clear it the next day, and it’ll be burnt in the incinerator.
But dad had other plans. Of course he would. The last time he caught a mole, he clubbed its head silly.
“Get me some string.” I went to the drawer and pulled some rafia.
“Cut it.”
I grabbed the pair of kitchen scissors. Time had since slowed. My helper held onto the rat, while dad and grabbed stuff.
I gave the rafia a few cuts. It refused to snap. My right hand was a retard when it came to stuff like this. My left hand had rat poop.
“Sorry, let me wash my hand first.”
We cut the rafia and tied the butterfly nets together. I had stacked my net on top of dad’s for good measure. Just in case the rat bit through the first.
“Go boil some water.”
I took the kettle and filled it up. The kitchen door was now open. Cool air welcomed me.
From outside, Momsy spoke.
“You two better bathe and change out of your clothes…”
Urg. Really. Now? Mother?!
“Can you please stop the comments? They’re the least important thing right now.” I was back to my snappy self.
“Dad, why not you two go out to the garden. It’s safer there. At least if the rat escapes, it wouldn’t be in the house. I’ll join you with the hot water when it’s done.”
It didn’t take long. The kettle hummed and I carried it out into the garden. Dad and the helper were waiting outside.
“Where should we kill the rat?”
I looked around. “Here. There’s a drain.”
“Right outside the neighbour’s house? You sure know how to pick a spot.”
“No, the drain outside our house is completely closed. Their drain has grills, the hot water would be flushed into the drain and it won’t splatter on us.”
“Ah, ok”.
I was armed with the kettle. The helper placed the nets on the ground, and dad shined the torchlight. The rat wasn’t moving. Perhaps it had fainted. Maybe it was exhausted. After all, my guess that it hadn’t moved from its spot in 24 hours. It could have been starving.
The poor, fragile life form, resting in the net.
I slowly poured the hot water on it. The water was still boiling, and the steam rose to our faces. The rat was squirming helplessly.
Its body contorted. It flinched, curled up, then arched its back. It struggled so hard, but resistance was futile. It did not make a single sound. The water flowed continuously. I couldn’t take my eyes off the rat. The steam made it hard for me to focus, and I’m glad it did.
The rat stopped moving. I continued pouring till the kettle was empty.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I went back home with the empty kettle. The brother was waiting in the dining room.
“How was it?”
I started tearing uncontrollably
“It was terrible. It was so helpless, and I was staring right at it. I just kept imagining if it was me. Being captured and then scalded to death. It’s just not fair.”
“But would you rather release it, and let it continue being a pest?”
He had a point. I was torn between harming a furry animal and keeping my home clean and free from pests.
My only way out of this is to kill more rats so I stop feeling the overwhelming the of sadness. Perhaps I should stop putting myself in the rats’ shoes. I couldn’t understand my actions. It was a soulless stare straight at a helpless animal. Merciless.
But it had to be done.
It was over in a matter of 30 minutes. But it felt much longer than that. Perhaps I’ll collect my emotions, maybe I’ll scatter them. But that’s another story for another day. Today, I played the live version of mouse hunt. And won.
Tai 1 – rat 0.
Bad hair day = bun my hair and use ahbuden (that’s what I named my rubber band) to distract others. it worked.
Unfortunately this year the dog wasn’t there. a snake bit the dog and she died T_T. #not a happy cny.
You KNOW I'm Hot. 
