I’ve been putting writing this off for the past days because it still doesn’t have a happy ending. The effing big rat isn’t dead yet!

Last week…

My brother saw the big rat jump off from beneath our car engine sitting in the garage. He said its size will rival our neighbor’s chihuahua. I raised the hood to check for anything that the rodent might have chewed on or changed in the engine alignment. Apparently, not only visually, but also olfactorily, the rodent had set up an apartment without my consent. Big word, I know. Because odor and smell do not give justice to what was in there! Imagine the worst public toilet you’ve been in. Then multiply that by 5. There you go. You found my car.

An hour later…

I sent my son Andre to bring the car to a carwash farthest from our place. Farthest because I wanted to have time to disinfect the garage with every possible chemical I’ve got stored including uranium. Rodents didn’t survive Hiroshima, did they?

With a clean car and a clean garage, will the rodent resent it? Dang, it didn’t! The following day, I saw fresh droppings - yep, rat sh*t gleaming right on top of the engine. It shouts, "Take that!" In this battle of the wits and squeaks, the rodent still has the upper hand. Or whiskers, to be more precise.

I’ve set multiple traps and baits, too. Fail.

My next plan is to employ the neighbor’s chihuahua to guard the house at night time. Or look for Sylvester the cat, if he’s still alive.

There are times when you’ve done all you can but you still don’t get the results you've hoped for. This is one of them. I will sit and I will stand and hope that one of these days, I will put a closure to this ugly story. One that describes the villain as slimy, scrawny, filthy, dirty, dark and best of all, dead!

But until then, life. Cheers!

#MyCafeNotes