The doubt never goes away
So you start to wonder … are there any more? We’ve only had evidence of four babies, but they can have a litter of, what is it ten, twelve? I can see why the Pied Piper was such a hit. And then again, is that the mother that I’ve hoiked out? Huh, see, I didn’t bother sexing it before I bagged it, wrapped it in 15 sheets of newspaper (a sheet at a time), wrapped it in another plastic bag and then sellotaped all sides before throwing it in the bin (which won’t be emptied now for another week). And I’m not getting it out again now. Not for anyone.
So, is there a father somewhere else? Is that the father, and there’s a mother somewhere else? Are there yet more babies somewhere else (we can only account for four so far)? It all comes down to (dah, dah, dah) …….can you still smell something?
It’s amazing how long the human brain can persuade itself it can still smell something. If it was something like bacon you’d think, yeah great, but unfortunately ‘eau de dead rat’ really doesn’t feature very high on most folks’ Christmas present lists.
I’m glad I’ve found it – no, honest I am. At least I know where it is, it isn’t decaying under the floorboards, necessitating a horrendously expensive ripping up of all the floorboards on the ground floor. I know it’s gone.
But the neighbours have decorators in who periodically seem to sand little bits of our adjoining wall – and every single one of those occasional scrabbling noises makes me stop and listen and think ….