WAR

Pack your stuff, pack rat

This closet belongs to me

The dachshund hunts you

My Passat was not running as smoothly as it was designed, and the engine light started flashing last week. According to the mechanic, the turbo-boost power had been nullified by some loose wiring. Upon closer inspection, the wires had been CHEWED through by packrats. So a few hours at the shop, and five hundred dollars later my car runs German smooth once again .

This means war on the rats of course. We cleaned out the carport closet (which now has the wonderful designation of "rat closet") and discovered a HUGE packrat nest. We raked, cleaned, washed, and reorganized for hours. I came across two mummified packrats, and one living packrat. Hilde, the bane of rats, quickly made short work of its furry self. That little dachshund darted like lightning and in a flash it was all over. Of course, this horrible national geographic encounter unfolded right in front of the screaming children. "Oh my GOSH! RUN! Don't let them bite you! Rats have DIABETES!!!"

Rats: 0, Me: 1