Saturday, August 09, 2008

in which I want the world to know I am merciful

I noticed Eddie the cat playing with something in the yard this morning. I wandered over to see what was going on and discovered he was toying with a baby rat. 

Moral dilemma. I fracking hate rats. Seriously. Nothing will reduce me to a quivering blob of hysteria faster than an uninvited house guest named Rattus rattus. But I really hate it when cats "play" with their prey. I know, I know, this is not abnormal cat behavior but it still bugs me. 

Oscar and I shooed Eddie away from the mini-rat and I asked Oscar to put it out of its misery (because I assumed it was injured and because being within two feet of said rodents gives me the heebie-jeebies), but Oscar was vacillating so I shot him a nasty look, walked over to the side yard to get a cinder block, walked back, and actually told him that apparently I was the only one that actually had any balls and prepared to drop the cinder block on mini-rat. Oscar stopped me and said I'd have better chance of success if the rat was on a solid surface instead of on the lawn. He had a good point (the whole point was to kill it quickly and end its suffering, not to botch the job and make it worse). 

I put the cinder block on the lawn and Oscar picked up the mini-rat (its body wasn't even an inch long) and positioned on the surface, and I hefted another cinder block to decrease the world's rat population by one...and then we realized the rat wasn't actually injured. 

As much as I hate rats, really really really hate them, I couldn't kill it just because I hate the species.  So I let it go. 

Fracking rat bastard.


L J said...

At least your kitty is keeping them outside to play with. Ichabod persists in bringing his toys inside. I hate it when they manage to escape from him. We have an escapee living somewhere in our kitchen at the moment. I saw the evidence.

sunt_lacrimae_rerum said...

Good for you! Letting the rat go must someway and somehow end up on some sort of cosmic ledger for you in rainbow ink from an exquisite fountain pen.

We get the occasional mouse in the house who terrifies the three boys. We have come home more than once to find little mouse, rampant, in the kitchen with the three cats edging back in alarm.

I don't think that we'll get many more visits. Our newest addition, Mrs. Palmer, however, would attack a cow, if one were hapless enough to wander inside.