Happy New Year! I can still say that, right? Aspiring to appear here at the blog more in 2025 is my version of losing twenty extra pounds. But a writer can dream.
Something else that always cycles back around like clockwork… the rats in East Hawaii.
We’ve seen rats intermittently since the one-year anniversary of our great Ninja Kitty’s death. (It’s not surprising that Ninja’s bad-ass spirit—or at least his reputation—outlasted his physical form.) But there appears to be a seasonal aspect to the rodent infestations, by which I mean the times they stick around and set up camp.
This bout began around the holidays. A few rats cozied into our house even before we left to visit family, small ones that rustled overhead while I stood at my desk, or teased me at night while I tried to sleep. Hubs couldn’t hear them and, for whatever reason, our canine Sadie didn’t seem to care.
We boxed up everything not-glass in the kitchen before leaving and were thrilled not to find a rodent dystopia on our return. As has happened before (That’s Why You Don’t Leave the House). However, the rats have gradually increased in number and in boldness.
First came the soap nibblings in our outdoor shower. Our response: tuck the soap in a cottage cheese container (used but clean—that’s Puna-style recycling). One morning, I found the container completely empty, with no damage to the lid. I looked everywhere, but never found any soap remains. Not even a little chunk.
The rat had opened a plastic container and stolen an entire bar of soap.
I used a heavier container with the next bar of soap. Until the Hubs heard something and found a rat dragging the container away. So we started taking the container of soap inside at night. (When we remembered.) But the rats weren’t just after soap. One morning I found a razor knocked from the shower caddy to the ground. I looked closer to see… it was just the handle. The razor blade cartridge was gone. 😱
Few things are creepier than thinking a Rambo Rat is coming to slit your throat in your sleep.
Fortunately, Hubs found the razor tucked in a garden hose under the edge of the house. I’m still not convinced it had bounced rather than being stashed there. 🔪
Traffic on the bedroom ceiling at night increased, too, enough that The Hubs finally heard it and Sadie looked at me like, Should I be doing something about this? At least, that was her initial response. Now, she’s into it. She wakes us by leaping from her bed like a bumbling bear on a rampage, chasing the sounds overhead.
But Sadie’s favorite stalking spot is elsewhere…
I made a shocking discovery one day, procrastinating during my mid-afternoon slump. I was taking my Toddy (cold drip) coffee grounds to the compost bin, a waist-high, closed container that has seen better days. I lifted the trash can-sized lid, dropped it on the ground, looked inside… and met the gaze of a large-ish but very chill rat. I half expected him to tip me for his latte.
Of course, Sadie is obsessed with the compost rat.
She makes a beeline for the bin first thing in the morning and last thing at night. One night during Final Pee, we inadvertently spooked the little guy out of hiding. It raced up our chainlink fence, along the top rail, and climbed a flagpole. Well, a Puna-style flagpole, which means it was an old, stripped guava tree trunk, holding a line of prayer flags. 😂 The little guy just sat up there, spinning on the tip, despite our best I Love Lucy-inspired efforts to get him down.
Not all of the rats are of the chill variety. Sadie and I witnessed a West Side Story-worthy territorial dispute, complete with thumping and chasing and screaming AEeeeeee!! back and forth overhead—all the drama! The moment that made me gasp: a naked pink rat tail shoved through a ceiling gap near the front door and swung like a waving middle finger at an NFL playoff game. The “original” rats—and Compost Rat—are pretty small. This tail was so big and fat, it could have belonged to a possum. (Let me translate my West Virginianism: an o-possum.)
It makes sense because we’ve seen multiple species of rats when we set out traps. By we, I mean The Spousal We, aka The Hubs. We only do it periodically because it’s exhausting. We use nonlethal traps, which requires… let’s call it re-homing, and when you can easily catch multiple rats a night, being a rat Uber service gets old. 😉
We have had some anonymous, non-nonlethal assistance from time to time. (Count the negatives.) One morning, I let Sadie outside after running an errand and watched her gleefully roll in the sun. A little too gleefully. Pet owners know what I mean—the dreaded dead stink roll. Upon investigation, I found a Kill Zone beneath the coconut palm, with rat hair scattered in a circle and a single rat organ. Very Owl-Serial-Killer vibe.
It did strike at least once more. The next day, I heard a bit of kerfuffle when Hubs took Sadie out for First Pee. I wish I had seen it: a grinning Sadie raced around the yard with a ginormous rat tail dangling from both sides of her mouth! Fortunately, she’s a very good tooth-brusher (or rather, her human is—thanks, Hubs!).
I’d like to think we’re nearing the end of the season. The little ones have been less active overhead, day and night. The Sadie rat alarm has become intermittent rather than every morning. And yet, I just heard a couple of the buggers racing across our metal roof.
If you know any hungry owls, feel free to send them our way. Just ask them not to leave their scraps on the roof. Remember, we’re on catchment water. 💦 😬
If you’re not too traumatized, you’ll find more of our Hawaii Island rat adventures here:
Want to Get Some Reading Done? Hire a Terrier
That’s Why You Don’t Leave the House: Vacation Interlopers
Two Plagues Upon our House (Or Why I’m Asleep with my Eyes Open)