Rats!

We once had rats in our attic.  Living in a neighborhood surrounded by canals that lead to the ocean, this is not an uncommon experience, nor is it an indicator that we live in filth, although we actually do at times because we have a Labrador Retriever.  If you know that breed of dog, you know that it's not our fault. It's a filthy, filthy breed, what with the hair droppage, mouth leakage, and chronic yeasty ears that plague my hausfrau sensibilities enough to make me want give him away at times, even though I adore him.

This Labrador, although genetically tweaked to find animals in brush, hedges, fields and bodies of water, could not have cared less that we had a debauched bevy of rats partying like it was 1999 in our attic at all times of the day and night. He was of no help. I must also mention that it was one hundred and fifty degrees in the attic during the day, and we don't know how they didn't melt, and the perimeter of the property was patrolled by a busy Cairn Terrier, who cared very much that rats had invaded his land holding, and was hellbent on shaking each and every one of them, so we don't even know how they got there in the first place.  The terrier was humiliated, and confused by why he could smell them but not see them, so he barked constantly, racing from room to room at all hours of the day and night.

After a few sleepless nights of partying, whereby we could hear the rats hauling food away from our pantry and up to the attic, they turned up the Barry White and we could hear their little mattresses thumping.  It was time to do something.

My husband read about a wonderful concept of rat poison that, once ingested would cause the rats to experience an enormous thirst and race away from the house in search of water before they died under a bush somewhere off our property. We planted this rat poison around in strategic places and waited.

One day.

Two days.

It is possible that the malt liquor they may have been consuming reacted with the poison, because when they ate the poison, they never made it to water, but just fell over very quietly dead right there in the attic, without any time to call 911. We hadn't a clue that they had died.  We took the silence to mean that they had left in search of relief from the promised cotton mouth, and expired, as planned, without us having to see them, hopefully under the Stashewksy's back deck.  About five days later we suspected that our rattucide theories were faulty when we started to smell something mysterious and unpinnable, yet able to cause nausea among our entire household.

My husband and I took a couple of flashlights and bandannas and some rubber dish gloves, and headed up the the attic, expecting to have to flip a few rats into a plastic trash bag. But it was something else entirely.

It looked like Jonesville up there.  Tiny little bloated, mostly liquid rat carcasses were scattered in several places around the attic, in various states of decomposition. I dry-heaved until I hyperventilated, all the while thinking about how to get  liquid rat out of yards of fiberglass insulation.

What does this have to do with parenting, you ask?  Here's where I reminisce about the strange and  horrible things we parents do to our children, things we are sure will warp them, but actually end up turning them into something better than they would have been without the experience.

Our attic was so narrow in places that neither my husband nor I could wedge even our shoulders in to get to a few ample carcasses. 

"Hey, kids," my husband hollered down the attic hole. "Send up whoever is smallest. Get in long pants and long sleeves and bring a shovel."

"Aw no fair, she always gets to do the fun stuff!" the younger ones cried. The teenagers, suspecting what they had escaped, gratefully gathered the required items and shoved the very small child up the hole without saying a word, lest we remember that they were down there and possibly well-suited to scraping some carcass.

Up popped a delighted five-year old, with twinkling eyes,two missing teeth and big, fluffy pigtails, looking for the time of her life. She held a little shovel in her sticky fist, and said, "Here I am! What are we gonna do?"

We shot straight with her.

"There are dead rats in this attic.  Because they ate rat poison, and because it is so hot up there, their bodies are turning to jelly.  We are too big to reach some of them.  You have to crawl into the tiny corners and use this shovel to shovel the dead rats into this garbage bag.  If we can, we'll hold it for you.  We have to get them all the first time, and we won't ever do this again."

"Ew," was all she said, and then got to work, matter-of-factly, scooping up carcasses in the tight edges of the attic.  We hunted with the flashlight, pointed her toward them, lay on our stomachs and held the bag for her when we could reach, and cheered her on each time she bagged one.

This was a terrible thing to ask of anyone, let alone a pig-tailed princess who wore Little Mermaid panties and who, fifteen minutes before, was happily playing with her Polly Pocket dolls. It was very hot up there. The rats were liquefied and swollen and dripped when you scooped them. They smell was like nothing we had ever smelled before. The child worked like a full grown woman, doing a job most adults couldn't handle, and did it without a single complaint.

Here's why:

• We didn't let her hear us complain or even suspect we had a bad attitude
• We did the job as a team
• We shot straight with her about what needed to be done
• We kept the atmosphere positive and pleasant at all times
• We had a history of not nagging or complaining or criticizing the children when we asked them for help

Children take on the attitude of the adults around them.  In most cases, they will do whatever it is you are doing with the same attitude you exhibit, no matter what it is.

If you are overwhelmed with housework and begin to complain, guess what they will do next time they are faced with chores they are not in the mood for?

If your car breaks down on the side of the road, are you going to cuss and throw a tantrum, or play word games by the side of the road until help comes?  It depends on what you want your children to one day do when they are handed an inconvenience.

This matter-of-fact attitude works for trying new foods, unpleasant medical procedures, taking nasty medicine, and many other experiences that have the potential to reveal character.  You don't want to raise a weak, whiny brat. You want to raise a person who gets the job done, no matter how rotten of a job it is.

Remember that your child is your mirror.

Some time later, when the job was finished and we were heading down the attic ladder, the child turned to me, wet with sweat, and said,"Those rats ate poison?"

"Yes, dear heart, don't ever eat poison."

"I won't," she nodded solemnly.

Seven years later the child is a delight and remains happy and healthy and unmarred from the rat incident.  She still wants to be a vet.

Comments

[argentumvulgaris]

Distasteful subject nicely told Suzy. I understand about the Labradors, my sister had one for 15 years. You are so right about the kids, it is just amazing what they will pull out of the hat (or the attic).