This is Narnia. I got her when she was a baby. She was about 6 weeks old and bonded with me as if I were her mother. I had her alone at first, until I read online that rats are very social creatures and need their own kind to be happy. So I went back to the store and got her sister, whom I named Andromeda.
Narnia used to hang out with me on my bed, and occasionally she would come up and clean my teeth. That's right, I used to let a rat pry my mouth open and scrape her teeth on mine to get them clean. I know some of you are probably shuddering, but it was a form of affection, and I was enamored with her utterly. She was my most special rat.
Narnia died in the spring of 2000. I woke up one morning to my ex-husband telling me that she has passed away in the night. She was 3 years old. I cried for hours. It was absolutely awful. By this time I was involved in rodent rescue, and I had 55 rats, some that I owned and some that I fostered. NONE of them were as special as she was, and yes, I did say 55. It would take me 3 hours every Saturday to clean their cages and tanks.
So where does the Hell NO come in? Well I was just outside with Livvie and I saw either a rat or a baby possum climb through the grate and under the house. Now, as you can tell, I love rats, but this is unacceptable. Not with a child in the house. Hell, not even if I didn't have a child in the house. God only knows what diseases this thing might be carrying, and I'm probably not the only one thinking Hanta Virus.
So what are we going to do? I'm going to ask Rich to buy baits. Yes, I who love and adore rats am going to poison whomever this is. I abhor traps, since sometimes they can get stuck and starve to death. That's just not cool. At all. So we're going to get baits, place them along the sides of the walls like I learned on Dirty Jobs, and hope that the situation will be taken care of.
Please don't think less of me. I just can't handle the idea of it.
Have a great day.