We have had a 4-legged problem in our on-campus apartment since we moved in right after the quake. For awhile, he was just a scratching noise in the ceiling, then he was shadow Katie swore she saw. Even one of our roommates, Madame Jules, said she saw it too. El Raton.
He has been everywhere. The kitchen, the bathroom, the living room. We even battled once in my closet. He had the high ground- one of our shelves that is at eye level. I had a broom. He ran, thinking he could live to fight another day.
Luckily my mother-in-law sent chemical weapons- the finest rat poison one can buy in a suburban Dallas Target.
I found his rotting carcass in my closet yesterday, close to where we once had our skirmish. I found him because he was stinking up our closet. He was easily 14 inches nose to tail, his body stiff from rigor mortis. I am pretty sure he kicked the bucket while we were in the DR.
Despite any bravado portrayed in my writing I was a big sissy about this. I had a grown-up temper tantrum before I went in to get him out. Captured below by Katie:
Here lies my enemy vanquished.