Soon after the chickens and even before the goats, we started having rats on Autism Hill. Early on they were content enough to make their places about the coops and shed, but from time to time, one or more have decided to become indoor rats. Cathy and I have had several problems with this, especially from the rats who preferred the kitchen suburbs.
Sometimes, it would be a single rat. More often, two or three kitchen rats. This is the case now, and they seem to know the difference between what’s food and what’s poison. They have even more than once created a water source for themselves by gnawing into the ice-maker tubing.
To our chagrin if not surprise, Luke appears to be on the side of the rats, always snapping the traps before the rats have a try, and leaving out food scraps Cathy and I have sealed up but not locked up. Coco is okay with tangling with birds, bugs, and mice, but she has apparently drawn a line at rats. I swear I could see in her face the reply: “You aren’t paying me enough for this level of nonsense.”
Getting rid of all animals but the useless cat isn’t an option. What Cathy wants, she gets. That’s what I’m here for. Without anything else to try, I’m ready to declare the Cinderella solution. I’ve asked Cathy to start making little shirts for them and giving each rat a name.
Everyone's Autistic 