RIP Rattican
This weekend, Jordan's been putting in a lot of hours on the backyard irrigation system. We spent $200 on parts last spring, but it hardly got worked on. Since our plants keep dying, I told Jordan that we weren't going to buy more plants until we had a complete irrigation system. (Plants are expensive when you buy many.) He really wants grass where Dave can run and play.
We had the missionaries come over and dig trenches for us-- yes, they do that sort of thing if you ask. No strings attached, either! Both of us have bad backs, so it really was nice. Babies kinda make doing things crazy-- first ones, at least, where you're figuring out how to juggle life and the baby. It now makes sense to me why first-time parents figuratively fall off the face of the planet for a year after having a kid. We didn't fall off the grid completely like some first-time parents do, but we still fell off the grid a little.
So, anyway, we had this shredder that Jordan broke by putting too many sheets of paper through at one time. We through away the shredding mechanism and kept the "bucket", which somehow ended up under the spigot in the back yard. Despite hounding Jordan to keep it empty, he failed to empty it for some time... so it's been full of standing water for a while-- and in the irrigation trench. Jordan was getting ready to sweat the water valve off, so he could attach irrigation fittings. He dropped this hose-spring thing to keep the hose from kinking at the end. It fell into the bucket of murky water. Jordan reached into the water to grab the part. He pulled it out and says to me, "There's something in there. Something big."
"Well, dump it out and see what it is," I say to him.
Jordan picks the bucket up and dumps the contents onto our elephant-heart plum tree. He jumps about a foot in the air as the slimy body of a rat rolls out with the water. Then he jogs up to the patio, where I'm standing, and tells me to turn the water main back on so he can wash his hands. I turn the water back on. He washes his hands. I run to get the camera and take photos. We talk body disposal.
"Use the shovel to pick it up and put it in the trash," I suggest. We roll with this plan. I open the trash bin. Inside the trash is a big, empty, plastic bag from some potting soil I'd bought at CostCo last year, the contents of which we added to one of the planters today. I pull the bag out and open it up.
"Stick the rat carcass in here, so it doesn't goop up the trash." Fortunately, trash pickup day is tomorrow. Whew!
I was okay until I SMELLED the rat as it went into the bag. I closed the trash bin and wretched in the yard. Twice. So gross. A dead rat would have been one thing. A dead rat that has been submerged in water for who knows how long... totally different "thing".
The really sad part is that we both felt bad for the poor rat. A rat can hold its breath for 24 hours. That alone made us feel for the creature-- just trying to get a drink of water in the desert. Though, I'm also glad it is no more...
Anyway, I've named the poor beast Rattican-- may he rest in piece. (Yes, I'm certain it was a male rat....)
We had the missionaries come over and dig trenches for us-- yes, they do that sort of thing if you ask. No strings attached, either! Both of us have bad backs, so it really was nice. Babies kinda make doing things crazy-- first ones, at least, where you're figuring out how to juggle life and the baby. It now makes sense to me why first-time parents figuratively fall off the face of the planet for a year after having a kid. We didn't fall off the grid completely like some first-time parents do, but we still fell off the grid a little.
So, anyway, we had this shredder that Jordan broke by putting too many sheets of paper through at one time. We through away the shredding mechanism and kept the "bucket", which somehow ended up under the spigot in the back yard. Despite hounding Jordan to keep it empty, he failed to empty it for some time... so it's been full of standing water for a while-- and in the irrigation trench. Jordan was getting ready to sweat the water valve off, so he could attach irrigation fittings. He dropped this hose-spring thing to keep the hose from kinking at the end. It fell into the bucket of murky water. Jordan reached into the water to grab the part. He pulled it out and says to me, "There's something in there. Something big."
"Well, dump it out and see what it is," I say to him.
Jordan picks the bucket up and dumps the contents onto our elephant-heart plum tree. He jumps about a foot in the air as the slimy body of a rat rolls out with the water. Then he jogs up to the patio, where I'm standing, and tells me to turn the water main back on so he can wash his hands. I turn the water back on. He washes his hands. I run to get the camera and take photos. We talk body disposal.
"Use the shovel to pick it up and put it in the trash," I suggest. We roll with this plan. I open the trash bin. Inside the trash is a big, empty, plastic bag from some potting soil I'd bought at CostCo last year, the contents of which we added to one of the planters today. I pull the bag out and open it up.
"Stick the rat carcass in here, so it doesn't goop up the trash." Fortunately, trash pickup day is tomorrow. Whew!
I was okay until I SMELLED the rat as it went into the bag. I closed the trash bin and wretched in the yard. Twice. So gross. A dead rat would have been one thing. A dead rat that has been submerged in water for who knows how long... totally different "thing".
The really sad part is that we both felt bad for the poor rat. A rat can hold its breath for 24 hours. That alone made us feel for the creature-- just trying to get a drink of water in the desert. Though, I'm also glad it is no more...
Anyway, I've named the poor beast Rattican-- may he rest in piece. (Yes, I'm certain it was a male rat....)