This could happen – maybe soon.
Officer (Animal Control): “So do you want to tell me what happened here? Or do we have to go downtown?”
Me: “I was in fear for my life officer! It was self defense!”
This did happen – last week.
The Situation
Remy the Rodent
Remy made a guest appearance in my garage. Actually I think it was his long tailed, cheese eating, ugly stepbrother. And like a big three auto maker CEO at a Congressional bailout hearing, he felt perfectly comfortable taking up permanent residence in my garage ceiling.
It’s not quite as gross as it sounds. I live in the middle of a swamp. OK maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. There are empty wooded lots on both sides and a wooded marsh out back of our home. Environmentalists and people who wear blazers and capri pants call it “wetlands” but it’s basically just a swamp. And it’s not like our garage is really part of our personal space. I happen to live in one of those houses where the entire living area is one floor up and there is a semi-open garage underneath at ground level. The smart real estate marketing people call these “raised” homes. I have figured out that’s just another way of saying that once every couple of dozen years, a tsunami is expected to roll under your house and wash pretty much everything away. With this model, the even-smarter insurance companies only have to replace the junk in your garage instead of retrieving your dining room suite from the neighbor’s pool.
But I digress. Over several days, Remi’s ugly stepbrother was spotted making homestead claims on the “junk side” of the garage. Clearly I could not have some two-bit dictator rat wanna-be upsetting the balance of power in my garage. It was clear that a regime change in the lawn tools section was not only legal, but justified.
The Plan
I did not think I would need a well thought out plan, nothing along the lines of the AIG bailout anyway. After all, I have a graduate degree, and while I have not met this rodent personally, I am pretty sure he does not.
So my initial plan was pretty simple:
- Put yummy bait near his hole. Actually it’s MY hole in the ceiling.
- Tip-toe down to the garage once in a while with heavy armament.
- Cap his butt.
The Equipment
- (5) slices of Kraft Singles – Select, torn into aesthetically pleasing shapes and sizes. I was planning to use just one slice, but Remy apparently feels entitled to steal my cheese without getting shot. Freaking Socialist.
- (1) Beeman air rifle, .177 caliber, scope equipped (thanks favorite son of mine!)
- (1) pair quiet shoes for real stealthy tip-toeing.
Results: The Agony of Defeat…
That arrogant little puke ate my cheese! And he did not even have the decency to let me cap him. Not even once!
Being a WWII history buff and a John Belushi (Animal House) fan, I had to ask myself “was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?” Many battles make a war. I lost the first, but production capacity is on my side. I am quite confident I can bankrupt this guy in an arms race.
More to follow.
Tom McHale was born a helpless, shooting-deprived infant. He later discovered the joys of collecting and shooting guns, reloading ammunition and writing about his adventures with a healthy dose of fun. Tom's career has been diverse, bordering on dysfunctional, with most of it spent leading marketing teams for a variety of technology companies including Microsoft and more than a couple of high-tech startups. He's finally seen the light and given up the corporate life to pursue his passion of creating slightly crazy, but educational, content related to guns, shooting, concealed carry and self defense. 
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