Jeff Smith 6 p.m., Feb. 27
- Community Blog
Ridding the world of Rodents one Rug at a Time
Last night I heard the cats coming and going through the cat door like they normally do. Then I realized that I was hearing them in the living room making a strange crunching sound. Fearing the worst, I dragged myself out of bed and turned on a couple lights as I made my way out there. Sure enough the black cat, Sidy (short for Obsidian), was in the middle of my Persian rug--where else? gnawing on something. My two tabby cats posted themselves nearby, midnight sentry duty. Sidy was hunched over, absorbed in his task, and as I drew closer I noticed a long rodent tail protruding from his mouth. My only concern was for my beautiful rug. Deducing from the length of the tail, I figured most of whatever it had been while alive was already half-digested, so no life-saving efforts were necessary on my part. I yelled at Sidy to get off my rug, attempting to chase him and his booty back outside. In true cat fashion he abandoned the tail-end of the carcass he had been munching upon and scooted across the rug, through my room and out the cat door, leaving me with half a chewed-up fresh rodent butt and long tail on my expensive Persian rug. Sometimes I think it's a cat-spiracy until I realize the dog does it too. The most expensive rug is a magnet for whatever anyone pukes up, drags in or spills. Hmmm.
Chagrined, I went into the bathroom and unrolled enough toilet paper to scoop up the remains and threw it into the commode. I pressed down on the handle to flush and said a little rodent prayer for the dead as I watched the wiry tail spiraling toward the East River, as we used to say in New York. I realized a little late that the toilet was a poor choice for the burial site and I was probably violating some environmental rules. But I don't do my clearest thinking in the middle of the night when confronted by raw rodent butt on my Persian rug. I made my way to the kitchen to get some paper towels to absorb the excess blood that had pooled at the murder scene, and wondered wearily if there ever was a forensic need to analyze my carpet what would show up on a DNA report.