Two tea boxes on the floor, a jar of honey in the sink, onion salt shaker resting sideways on the counter, kitchen cupboards hanging wide open with a bunch of spaghetti noodles falling out of their bag, extending precariously over the shelf ledge. After a particularly long day Friday last, I arrived home to my apartment to find the kitchen in a strange state of disarray.
After eliminating the possibility of an intruder who likes to make messes in cabinets and leave, I began to suspect the visit of an animal of some sort, possibly a bird. That hope was quickly dismissed upon pulling open one cupboard door and finding a rat the size of a small child peering out from behind my wine glasses. Doors were slammed shut, an old mop handle was inserted through the cabinet pulls, and some masking tape haphazzardly applied for good measure; this would be dealt with in the morning.
***
The biggest rats I've ever seen have been the ones that roam Isla Gorgona and the back alleys and subways of Chicago. Secretly hoping my own comprably-sized rodent intruder found its own mysterious way out, I went about "unlocking" the cupboard doors. After momentarily believing my wishful thinking had come to fruition, I found it lurking behind the wall of tea boxes. Plan B: Block off the kitchen so the only way of escape is through the patio doors where there is actually no escape and I can either sequester it outside and/or chase it around swinging violently with the aforementioned mop stick in an enclosed space.
I should mention that there is a fuse box located on the back wall of the kitchen cabinets. This was part of my hope when I wished for the possibility of a spontaneously disappearing rat. I have no idea where or even if this fuse box has some sort of outlet - construction codes are somewhat open to interpretation here - that rats, for example, could use to come and go as they please. This rat decided to try, or at least avoid my mop handle, and hide in the fuse box. For awhile the rat was winning the battle; no matter how much I prodded and banged around, it seemed to find a way to not only avoid contact with the stick but also not feel an urgent need to flee toward the patio as I had intended.
And then the rat unceremoniously layed down and a strange odor filled the morning kitchen air. New problem: How do I extract a large electrocuted rat from the fuse box in the back of my kitchen cupboard? After some creative maneuvering, with the help of a clothes pin and a plastic bag, I am happy to say there is no more rodent habitating in amongst my dinner plates and spices. Although the stench of singed rat did hang in the air for awhile...