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We were sitting in the kitchen having a cup of coffee when a half-grown rat happened to meander across the dining room floor and peer into the kitchen. Mom said very quietly; "Look in the dining room." There he (or she) was sniffing the good kitchen smells, undecided as whether to proceed or not.
I quietly got up, went out the far kitchen door into the center hall of the house, picked up my baseball bat that was in the corner of the entry-hall; and went to the large doorway opening separating the living room from the dining room. At the same time Dad had retrieved his briar walking stick and with Mom behind him moved to the kitchen door.
It slowly dawned on the rat that all was not well. He turned and moved toward me as I crouched and went to my knees with the bat held on-the-ready. Dad, now behind the rat, likewise went to his knees, in the event I was not successful; he would be ready.
The rat lunged toward my doorway; I swung the bat, putting a dent in the door frame as I came up empty. The rat now in a hard run, nails seeking a bite on the polished pine-wood floor, turned toward Dad.
Dad's stick swung, just missing the wary rat but hitting Mom's prized buffet instead. The rat now knew this was not just a game of shuttlecock; and turned in my direction again. Bang, went the bat against the floor and just like the mighty Casey at the bat, I missed again.
The rat in full flight toward Dad must have heard Mom's cries of; "there, over-there, under the table, against the wall, there" and with encouragement; "get em." This only drove our visitor into a more frantic escape mode as he now was not only on the floor, but over the chair cross members, leaping high into the air as if to see if escape was possible through the window and circling the room along the walls seeking a way out.
Past the linen closet he ran, dodging behind grandmother's antique oak cupboard. More swings of Dad's cane and more bashing with my baseball bat and the dishes were rattling in the glass-doored breakfront , the bare light bulb over the dining room table swung too and fro. The rat was a blur as he went back and forth. And then - - - silence, except for our heavy breathing.
I really don't know where the rat went. But he was gone. Neither of us believed we had struck a single blow. And, each denied that he went past.
One thing for sure, this was the only rat we ever saw in the house. He probably returned to the barn and warned all, "The house is not the place for an early morning stroll."
January 27, 1999
rev. June 3, 2001
rev. June 9, 2001
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