Rat trap

The drive up to his mothers cottage could never be described as convenient. It was tucked away in the foothills up a long bumpy road that was perilous in the best of circumstances.  Parts of this road were so narrow due to seasonal mudslides that in places only one vehicle could drive on it.  Fortunately it was not a busy road, but a few times David had the displeasure of having to back up a quarter of a mile just to allow another car to pass as there was an unwritten rule that gave the right away to those heading down the hill.  

When he received a panicked phone call from her, his immediate concern was that it was some kind of health issue.  She was always mucking about in her garden and maybe she strained her back again. So, forty five minutes later he was bumbling up the root warped road nearing her cottage that looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkaide painting. The lavender was in full bloom, splashing her yard with explosions of purple dotted with fiery orange dahlias. Surrounded like sentries, were huge platter sized sunflowers and dense fragrant bushes of jasmine.  While a pain in the butt to get here, it never failed to astound him how she managed to keep the place looking so well tended.

She emerged from her vegetable garden, the creak of the old wood gate squealed as she opened it and it closed shut with a dry clap behind her. She looked prepared to do battle with a vicious pile of leaves, as she brandished a metal rake like a halberd.  She hurried over to her son and gave him a warm hug before assuming that appraising look mothers often do.

  “Another tattoo? David, I thought one was too many.”

  “Glad you approve mom. Should see the one on my fanny.” 

  “Well, it’s nothing I’ve never seen before.” She said with the famous family smirk.

  “So uh, what’s up? Everything okay?”

  “Oh David, I think I’ve got rats. This morning I could hear something scratching in the walls near the pantry.”

  “Hmm.” Was all he said.

  “I laid out some traps, but when I went to check they were all sprung and the bait was gone.”

  “Alright I’ll see what I can do, have any peanut butter?”

 She snapped her fingers and headed inside.

The wall that bordered the pantry was at the back of the house  and after a bit of prying back foliage he discovered some signs of rat activity.  There was a hole in the mortar that angled up and in, scattered around this entrance were disturbingly large rat droppings. 

  “You find it?” His mom asked, directly behind, causing him to jump.

  “Oh! Uh, sort of. Look there, see those?” He asked while pointing at the dark lumps scattered around the hole.

  “My, those are the size of jelly beans! Are you sure this is a rat?”

  “I mean, I think so, what else could it be that would chew a hole in your wall like this?”

  “Bunny?”

  “Mom, I dont think a bunny rabbit chewed a hole in your wall.”

  “Oh, but I’d prefer if it was!” She lamented.

  “It’s a big one I bet, hopefully these traps you have are enough.”

  “Same ones your dad bought years ago, was afraid they’d snap one of my fingers clean off!”

She ushered him to the small pile of traps and he got to work baiting them.

  “What did you use before?”

  “Oh some bread, cheese and bits of ham.”

David laughed.

  “You made it sandwiches, mom, really?”

  “I guess I did, does peanut butter work better you think?”

  “Yeah, it’s harder to get off the trigger and it guarantees their head will be in the kill zone.” He said while pulling back the thick bit of spring loaded metal and securing it with the trigger latch. As if holding an armed explosive device he carefully set it down near the hole.

He repeated this process a few more times then stood while dusting off his hands to signify a job well done.  “So, is that pie I smell?”

  “Your favorite, yes, just took them out before you got here.”

  “Just gonna check the pantry and see if it’s gotten in, then will absolutely devour that rhubarb pie.”

She tutted at him, frowning.

  “I know darn well that your favorite is pecan, David Allen Bruce.”

She invoked his full name in mock disappointment.

  “Yeah I know, just checking to see if you remembered mom.”

  “Okay smart alec, go check the pantry, and wash your hands… golly miss molly,  the size of those turds!” She said as she bustled back inside.

He wondered then, why people leave their families at adulthood, like it was some kind of expected thing where they had to stake their claims elsewhere.  Start families of their own or whatever.  He felt a moment’s span of regret for leaving  her alone so long ago to care for his father who had suffered two massive strokes that nearly killed him, leaving him in a wheelchair, unable to use one half of his body.  Maybe it was an excuse, maybe it was seeing such a powerful man brought to a state of helplessness that compelled him to go seek some adventure.  Maybe on some deeper level he didn’t want to have to change the man’s diapers.  

After he passed, his mother sold the house near the coast and settled here, which she called her own little slice of heaven.

The pantry was as neat and well stocked as ever, masonry jars filled with preserves and jams lining the cedarwood shelves. Dry goods and large bins full of rice, beans and oats…. Oats spilling out of a chewed out corner of the container.  It was thick hard plastic that he thought would be very difficult or near impossible for a rodent to get through.  This thing was tenacious, he thought.  Upon sliding the breached container away from its alcove he saw for a split second, what looked like a pale snake slither into a hole at the baseboard.

  “Jesus!” He yelled.

  “Language, pig!” His mom yelled from the kitchen.  That was something his dad would say.  He was a highschool football coach and damn it she got his inflection so perfect that it brought a smile to his face.  His family didn’t freak out over foul language, but never missed an opportunity to chastise one for using it.

  “It’s gotten to your oats mom! I think I saw it too!”

  “Really? In here, oh no.” She said peering into the pantry as if at any moment it would spring out at her.

  “I should probably patch that up, but for now maybe just barricade the little bugger?”

He made quick work of it by nailing some scrap wood over the hole, if anything, he thought it would just slow it down until it was caught.  

The pie was blue ribbon at the county fair delicious.  Just as he was scraping up the last morsels of crust and caramelized filling he heard a sharp clack from outside. 

David frowned, as that was the sound of metal hitting wood, not a furry neck.

 “Guess I’ll go check. Maybe we got him.” 

Upon first glance it looked like it just went off by accident until he realized that one was gone.

Scanning the nearby area he saw it, about fifteen feet down a slight hill in a clearing near some brush.  The rectangle of wood was positioned atop the rodent like some kind of hat.  This thing was big, if not for the iron gray fur he would have thought it was an opossum.  

He tossed a few rocks at it to see if was still alive, one of them plinked off the wood trap and nothing happened.  Satisfied, he went back in to get a bucket and a shovel. 

  “Did we get it?”

  “Yeah mom, this thing is huge!”

  “Oh, what’s the bucket for?”

  “Kinda dont want to touch it.”

  “Ah, are you going to bury it?”

  “Seems like the thing to do, I dunno would you rather I just toss it into the woods and have its ghost haunt you?”

  “David, that’s not funny, you know I don’t care for scary stuff.” 

He nodded in silent apology and headed back to the clearing. And as he thought about it, he realized that he was only half joking.

He set the bucket nearby and slid the shovel blade beneath the rat and just as he lifted it to deposit it into the bucket it jerked alive causing him to drop the shovel in astonishment.

It slowly scampered away issuing an odd rasping hiss.  

Heart thumping hard in his chest he acted without thinking.  He grabbed the bucket and chased after the thing now heading for some thick brush.  

  “Gotcha!” He exclaimed as he trapped the very much alive rat in the upturned bucket with a hollow thump.

He could feel it scrabbling against the plastic walls as he held it down.  Maybe it was just unconscious, the trap was oddly oriented, maybe it just got a nasty crack on the head, he mused wondering what to do next as it thrashed inside its plastic prison.

It would eventually run out of air and suffocate, so he just had to wait, he decided. Its frantic activity would surely use up the oxygen quicker so he gave the bucket a thump every few seconds to antagonize it.  Eventually it was quiet, its desperate attempts were stilled.

Just to be sure he waited a few more minutes before lifting the bucket.

The rat was gone.  The trap was all that remained.

  “Where the…”

Before he could finish his sentence a sharp pain flared at the back of his right foot, as if a pair of wire cutters just bit into his achilles tendon he screamed and lurched forward.

Being on a slight grade the combination of gravity and his injured heel sent him into a staggering  downhill run. It was chasing him!

He could hear its furious chittering as it nipped at him fueling his panicked steps.

Risking a glance behind him proved to be a huge mistake but in those moments he remarked inwardly on the strange expression on the rat’s face as he went into free fall. It was just sitting there watching him fall, its forepaws clasped together in front of its chest in a manner that emphasized its smug expression.  He hit solid ground feeling something in his shoulder crack sending blasts of red pain through his body. 

Where was he? He wondered vaguely as he looked up at the trees and dusky sky that seemed too far away.  It was a pit, surely his mom hadn’t dug this, why would she?

As if answering his silent question, the head of his pursuer appeared over the edge, followed by another, and another until there was a countless horde of toothy little faces looking down at him, hungrily.