Thursday, 1 July 2010

"There's A Rat In Da Kitchen What I'm A Gonna Do"

There's a rat in our kitchen.  Really.  The husband spotted it the other morning while he was making tea and took the (wise) decision not to alert me to this fact, knowing full well that within minutes of hearing the news I'd have our bags packed, belongings stashed in the boot, deposit be damned.

The other morning, our friend, who is staying in the tiny villa beside us, told us that a little kitten jumped in her path as she strolled the few metres home the night before.  The husband and I raised eyebrows...was there a little kitten on the premises?

And two nights ago, sitting by the pool enjoying the sultry evening air, my friend and I shrieked with alarm as we spotted a giant rat running around inside our villa, climbing the glass walls and looking for all intents and purposes, very much at home.

I begged my friend to step inside the villa first, make sure the coast was clear, then shut the door behind her as I cowardly made a mad dash to our bedroom, slamming the door and executing a rather ungraceful, flying leap into the marital bed, clutching onto the back of my snoring husband for dear life.

"A rat!  A rat!  There's a RAT in our HOUSE!"

Distinctly nonplussed, he mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like "You imagined it", then drifted back into heavy slumber.

Ha!  If I were to imagine such a thing, my brain surely couldn't have come up with the gargantuan measurements of said rodent in question.  It shed some light on the 'little kitten' theory to be sure.

When I informed our landlady, the illustrious Mrs. Putu, she, to her credit, feigned horror - her tatooed-on eyebrows raised into identical arches of shock, informing me that tomorrow she was having a special ceremony to bless and protect her newly erected buildings.  She assured me that the priest or whatever would say a special prayer to get rid of the rats.

So that's sorted then.

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