The other night I was alone with Bambina. Petite and Hubbie were out for dinner. I heard a very loud scratching at the front door. I tried to ignore it but it persisted. Not a slight sound that I could pretend wasn't there, but a loud persistent scrambling, scratching. Too small for a cat (please let it be a cat!) I knew it must be a rodent.
It was so loud I started yelling at it "go away!" hoping that might scare it off. Bambina was oblivious to it and kept asking me who I was yelling at.
I vehemently hoped it wouldn't find a hole to crawl inside the house but I made an escape plan anyway. If it - whatever it was -came racing inside, Petite and I would hightail it out the back door, hop in the car and drive to where Hubbie and Petite were having dinner. We wouldn't be able to make it upstairs without passing the front door.
I made this plan while texting Hubbie for help, half insisting he return immediately, while also realizing that would be pointless because what would he do? I was torn between panic and futility.
I am the designated bug killer (apologies to those naturalist out there), but I do NOT do rodents. When the kids (or Hubbie) see a spider or bug they call me in to take care of it . After twenty years of living together, Hubbie has given up pretense of attempting to deal with it.
I have always been terrified of bugs. Luckily my dad wasn't scared of anything. He would eradicate any creepie crawlie with his bare hands. That tiny -enormous to me - spider? Who needs a pamper towel? He would just squash it.
But once on my own, as an adult, I had to learn to take on the task myself. In addition to learning how to fix a toilet and put chains on the car in snow, taking care of bugs was a matter of survival. No way around it.
The first time I was forced to take this on was when my mom an I were on holiday in the Carribbean. My brother and father were spending the week on a scuba dive boat and my mom and I holed up in a hotel. I say "holed up" because, despite any visions of lush palm trees and white sand that "Caribbean island" might conjure up, the reality was we were at a bug infested hotel on an arid plot of land with a tiny dirty pool, miles away from a beach. I don't know if we chose the wrong island or the wrong hotel but it was a week of Roach Motel for us. We spent the second half of the week trying to get a flight off the island.
We quickly learned to sleep with the lights, fan and radio on to deter the cockroaches (who became more brazen as the wek progressed). That's where I learned to use a frying pan as a weapon. Each of us yielded a pan and we took turns keeping an eye out, scanning the room for movement. It certainly made for a less than restful week of sleep. By the time my brother and father returned from the dive boat (note: totally luxurious, not one bug, comfortable and heavenly, we had packed up and changed our tickets to catch a flight out that night.
Bugs creep me out but I feel empowered to fight them off. Rodents creep me out to no end. I spent many a sleepless night while we renovated the villa, Petite nestled in my arms, me wide awake keeping an ear open for the scurrying of tiny rodent feet.
So, tonight I heard the scratching again. I yelled for Hubbie who came running, verified that yes indeed there was a loud scratching noise, and promptly went into the back room to make a phone call. I was frozen to the spot, listening to the scratching, too afraid to open the door and look out. Soon, Petite and Bambina noticed that I was terrified. I tried to blow it off but they quickly understood that I was on Rodent Watch. Petite promptly gathered her pillow and blanket and announced that she would be sleeping in the car. I assured her the house was rodent free (trying to assure myself but not feeling very confident).
A few minutes later, Bambina came running inside, "Mama! I saw something run by! I saw two somethings!" Oh great, now the rodents are running around the courtyard. At least, they're not inside the house! I bravely looked into the foliage she was pointing to and saw two little furry forms. Too big to be rodents. Kittens. The girls have been wishing for kittens and here two have appeared in our courtyard. Not rodents. Kittens. Thank goodness. They can eat the rodents.
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