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Hater Humpday

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Welcome to hater humpday, the brainchild of the illustrious Dawn from This Side of Typical.

Because sometimes happiness is overrated.

Yard work.  It’s the doing of work, which is not my favorite thing, and it’s done in the yard, where there’s dirt and bugs and fire ants.

So we decided to do some yard work this weekend, even though it’s been 80 billion degrees for 30 days now.  All three of us were working as one superhuman team of sweaty, irritable, complaining yard improvement machines.

Then we heard this screech/yelp come from the side of the house.

Hubby ran to the side of the house just as Dora, the crazy dingo dog, came racing past him toward the back porch.  With something in her mouth.

We all turn to look, and we see that she is standing at the back door with a bloody rat in her mouth.


And since, when faced with a great and mighty challenge, we operate like a band of stealthy ninjas, this is how we all reacted:

Hubs:  Runs to the porch to try and extract the rat from her mouth because she was shaking it around like a squeaky toy.

Borrowed from Allie Brosh at Hyperbole & a Half.

Me:  Stands in yard, waving arms in the air, yelling “Oh my god, it’s a RAT!!!  Where did a rat come from?!  How could there be a rat?  I’ve never seen any rats around here!  What are we going to do?  OHMYGOD SHE HAS A RAAAAAT!!!!!

We're all gonna die!!!

Connor:  Runs in circles, yelling “Mommy, why does Dora have a rat?  What is she doing with it?  What’s going to happen? I WANT TO GO IN THE HOUSE, I’M SCARED!”

Just so we have a picture of this, the dog is standing on the back porch, with a spatter of blood up her face.  The rat head is in her mouth, and the body and tail are hanging out.  And the rat body is TWITCHING AND JERKING AND DRIPPING BLOOD.

So hubs managed to get her to release her new chew toy, but since it’s still twitching, husband has to hold it down with his foot (we need to burn those sneakers).  So he tells me to hand him the only thing I have in my hands, so he can use it to hold the rat down while Connor runs to get his gloves.  And the thing in my hand is HEDGE CLIPPERS.

It’s not like he can hold the rat down with the handles, so he had to use the point of the clippers, which impaled the damn thing.

Impaled.  Rat.

So Connor throws the gloves at him and runs into the house and slams the door.  But his morbid curiosity didn’t keep him from standing with his face pressed against the sliding glass door.

With the gloves on, hubs disappears around the side of the house with the bloody, twitching rat.

When he returns several minutes later, I’m hosing off the porch.   I ask him, “what did you do with it?”

And here is what he told me:

“I took it to the side of the house, by the trash cans.  But it wasn’t dead, so I had to find something to kill it.  SO I TOOK TWO HUGE BRICKS AND PUT THEM ON TOP OF IT.  Its back end was sticking out, and I was afraid it was going to POP.”

Well that's just fucking great, you've upset Brad!!

In response to this story, I ask “why didn’t you just whack it with the shovel?”

And he says, “I had to use the closest thing I could find.”

So while I stood there pondering whether it was safe to clean the rat blood off the dog’s head with bleach and a blowtorch, she started doing this crazy, happy murder dance in front of me, wiggling and waggling her butt from side to side, and throwing her head back over her shoulder to look at me.

She looked just like this, except she's a dog, not an actual zombie.

You may recall that I’ve written about this dog before, and her nonsense and shenanigans.  That rat was her golden ticket to an eternal place in our family.  And I also used a much milder abrasive to clean her bloody snout.

In conclusion of Hater Humpday, let me reiterate that I HATE YARD WORK.  Also, rats.

But I will keep hope alive that someday, someday my hopes and dreams will be answered when that renegade band of roving gardeners descends upon my yard with reckless abandon, angrily weaving the fried remains of our shrubbery into a glorious wonderland of greenery.


About Flannery

Kid, husband, dogs, my mother, full-time job, maximum stress, minimal relaxation...sooner or later I had to vent. AND we moved from California to Texas. I could start a whole other blog about that.

15 responses »

  1. MIL’s dog caught a coon last week. There’s a zillion of the things around here and full of distemper. Uncle killed the other one and both were disposed in the country way – S.S.S.

    I think she would have preferred the rat.

    Personally, both are gross and I probably shouldn’t tell you about catching one once with a 3 pronged rake and another with the lawnmower…. Dh did the official disposal of both.

    FWIW… I don’t mine removing live birds from the house but the dead ones in the attic room are Dh’s.

    Mouse seed works kinda. But there is a block that you can buy that will kill the rats when they eat it. Warfarin doesn’t work at all, I can’t get them to touch the stuff.

  2. That’s hard to shake off (clearly, not for Dora). I hope you’ll be enjoying the view of your new weed garden taking shape from the comfort of your air-conditioned, umbrella-drinked, rat free living room for the rest of the the summer.

  3. This post actually made me cackle out loud. It was the crazy happy murder dance from the dog because I know exactly the dance that you mean.

  4. Gross out!!! Our dogs have killed rats and mice in the past…but when our cat kills things and we throw them away, she just keeps bringing them back. Does she want us to eat them or something?
    Dora sounds like a good pooch to have! The only good rat is a dead rat XXX

  5. A RAT?!? REALLY, A RAT?!? EWWWWWW!!!!

    And yes, I was yelling that.

    And I thought it was bad when one of our cats had a mouse and was playing with it on our bed in the middle of the night. No lie. In her defense she was an indoor cat and all her feline instincts were bred out of her so she didn’t know what to do with it other than play with it around the sheets, our feet, etc. That mouse met the same fate as your rat compliments of hubs.

    Does that make you feel any better??? I hope so cause just thinking of it makes me want to go and take a Silkwood shower now.

  6. I wanted to read this, but I could not bear the gruesome descriptions of the rat’s demise!!!!

  7. Wow… No wonder you hate yard work!! I’m with Kara about enjoying the weed garden from the comfort of your airconditioned, umbrella drinked, rat free home!! **lol**

  8. Ya know….I’d do it all over again too! F*@#ing rat bastards!!

  9. Was it a nutria rat? Again with the crazy wildlife down there. Dora did fine work.

    The only time I miss having a hubs is when critters appear that need to be impaled. Maybe I should get me a dingo.

  10. Well, hello! I just headed over here from Yeah. Good times. I am obviously a techno-idiot as I can’t figure out how to follow you…on this here computer thing…not the mego-advanced twitter. Wait, is that what the email subsription big button is? So many pretty colors and fancy pictures…I just can’t choose! Anyways…you amuse me!

  11. UGH. Okay, that story is hilarious. And I am SO glad it didn’t happen to me!

  12. That’s the best animal-killing-something story ever.

    The only rat story that surpasses it is the time my husband’s late wife found a rat hanging from the kitchen ceiling. It had slithered through the baseboard and then got its head stuck.

    She screamed and told to Bob to take it down. He said, “Why me?” She said, “I found it. You get rid of it. Fair is fair.”

    There are actually pictures of the hanging rat in the family album. Several of them. I kid you not.



    I am freaking out.

    I once saw a mouse running into the neighbors’ garage when I was weeding along the fence line.

    Now I don’t give a shit and those weeds? Are my form of xeriscaping.

  14. Ew! Brutal! I hate rodents of all types. Ew ew ew. This reminded me of my cat Patches. You could read about it here if it will help you to know you’re not alone. 🙂

  15. i love that your son was scared and ran into the house, but then stared through the window. he wanted to watch, but needed a barrier between himself & the action. my daughter would have done the same thing!
    i’m here from the cheesy bloggers best story ever link.


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