... Remember what I said about me and nature?
Hat: I failed to send my brb message.
Hat: Well. I checked on the ratty. And had an adventure!
Lyn: *L* S'okay.
Lyn: Oh?
Hat: They say that it's almost impossible to get a roof rat back into its cage if it doesn't want to go. THEY ARE NOT WRONG OH GOD.
So I looked in on her, she seemed awake, alert, active. Food had been moved about. Good things! I stuck my hand in, to see how afraid of me she-- or he, okay, it-- is. The answer? NOT AS MUCH AS WOULD BE USEFUL.
My hands? Are to be feared. Everything that is not a hand? IS TO BE USED AS A LADDER OH GOD. Did you know baby roof rats can climb the orangepeel texturing they put on walls? I DIDN'T!
Chased her about the floor, caught her, went to put her back in the cage, she slipped out of my fingers like fuzzy water and hid behind the cage. Stalemate-- I can't get both hands on one end to catch her, cos the minute I move one hand she'll go the other way, she can't go forward or back. So. We wiggle a bit, looking for an advantage-- which she finds, in the willingness to climb my arm and leap from my shoulder INTO THE BATHTUB.
I think fast and plug the drain, but cannot find the babything. Anywhere. I move everything in the body of the bathroom I can find, as a mere glance shows me she's not in the tub. Oh noes, think I, did I seal her down the tub drain?
I did not, as she was between the shower-basket-tension-pole-thingy and the corner of the walls, hiding. Waiting for me to drop my guard.
Drop my guard I do not, for 'climbing a pole that doesn't go anywhere' is how I caught Hello!
So. Into my hands, little roof ratlet, before you can eat the soap or something stupid. Yep, into my hands, onto my shoulder, into my hair, and down my back. Then jumping to the tub. There followed a short damp race, as the ratlet popcorned about the tub like its little ratty ass was on fire and I attempted to catch the sprightly little mofo.
I did not catch the sprightly little mofo. The sprightly little mofo sought refuge UP MY PANTS.
Climbed my leg (which I could barely feel) up to my hip, where I cupped my hand over the critter so it couldn't really go anywhere. "Now. How," I say to myself, "Do I get this RAT out of my PANTS?"
Thank GOD I put that Crystal Light box in there-- little box from the On The Go thingies, I find them quite handy for shipping things that are too small for a big box but too fragile for just an envelope-- into the drink mix box and into the envelope and off they go. Also, they're perfect cardboard-house size for baby rats. Handily, they fit down pants, too. Herded the rat into the box, LEAPT from the tub, put the box in the cage, closed the cage. Went HOLY SHIT for a while.
Then washed my hands. I'll take alcohol wipes to any of the rest of me she fondled in the bedroom.
Lyn: That is one of those things like... like sweet potatoes.
Hat: I'm glad you're laughing. Hell, I'm chuckling. Totes should have known better, but I'm such a sucker for babythings.
Hat: Hey, bright side! I surprised her badly enough she squeaked at least three times, but she didn't bite me even once!
Lyn: I did notice the absence of biting in the story. *nodnod*
Hat: I'm sure the critter has no idea why I haven't eaten her. (Could still be a boy. Roof rats hide their balls. But only girls give me issues like this.)
Hat: Well. I checked on the ratty. And had an adventure!
Lyn: *L* S'okay.
Lyn: Oh?
Hat: They say that it's almost impossible to get a roof rat back into its cage if it doesn't want to go. THEY ARE NOT WRONG OH GOD.
So I looked in on her, she seemed awake, alert, active. Food had been moved about. Good things! I stuck my hand in, to see how afraid of me she-- or he, okay, it-- is. The answer? NOT AS MUCH AS WOULD BE USEFUL.
My hands? Are to be feared. Everything that is not a hand? IS TO BE USED AS A LADDER OH GOD. Did you know baby roof rats can climb the orangepeel texturing they put on walls? I DIDN'T!
Chased her about the floor, caught her, went to put her back in the cage, she slipped out of my fingers like fuzzy water and hid behind the cage. Stalemate-- I can't get both hands on one end to catch her, cos the minute I move one hand she'll go the other way, she can't go forward or back. So. We wiggle a bit, looking for an advantage-- which she finds, in the willingness to climb my arm and leap from my shoulder INTO THE BATHTUB.
I think fast and plug the drain, but cannot find the babything. Anywhere. I move everything in the body of the bathroom I can find, as a mere glance shows me she's not in the tub. Oh noes, think I, did I seal her down the tub drain?
I did not, as she was between the shower-basket-tension-pole-thingy and the corner of the walls, hiding. Waiting for me to drop my guard.
Drop my guard I do not, for 'climbing a pole that doesn't go anywhere' is how I caught Hello!
So. Into my hands, little roof ratlet, before you can eat the soap or something stupid. Yep, into my hands, onto my shoulder, into my hair, and down my back. Then jumping to the tub. There followed a short damp race, as the ratlet popcorned about the tub like its little ratty ass was on fire and I attempted to catch the sprightly little mofo.
I did not catch the sprightly little mofo. The sprightly little mofo sought refuge UP MY PANTS.
Climbed my leg (which I could barely feel) up to my hip, where I cupped my hand over the critter so it couldn't really go anywhere. "Now. How," I say to myself, "Do I get this RAT out of my PANTS?"
Thank GOD I put that Crystal Light box in there-- little box from the On The Go thingies, I find them quite handy for shipping things that are too small for a big box but too fragile for just an envelope-- into the drink mix box and into the envelope and off they go. Also, they're perfect cardboard-house size for baby rats. Handily, they fit down pants, too. Herded the rat into the box, LEAPT from the tub, put the box in the cage, closed the cage. Went HOLY SHIT for a while.
Then washed my hands. I'll take alcohol wipes to any of the rest of me she fondled in the bedroom.
Lyn: That is one of those things like... like sweet potatoes.
Hat: I'm glad you're laughing. Hell, I'm chuckling. Totes should have known better, but I'm such a sucker for babythings.
Hat: Hey, bright side! I surprised her badly enough she squeaked at least three times, but she didn't bite me even once!
Lyn: I did notice the absence of biting in the story. *nodnod*
Hat: I'm sure the critter has no idea why I haven't eaten her. (Could still be a boy. Roof rats hide their balls. But only girls give me issues like this.)