The rat mostly lived under the house because it was relatively peaceful and pleasantly dark there, and the chicken house was nearby with a fairly steady supply of eggs. And of course the dog house. A little risky, but better than nothing on a hungry night. Occasionally he made a foray into the house in search of new dining experiences.
When Rick's wife moved out and took the kids and the dog with her he decided to sell the house. As he took Sally's clothes and saucepans and books to Goodwill he smiled with pleasure at the thought of her finding her own Revereware and buying it back. Her Prom dress too.
The real estate woman said the place smelled like rats. She found rat shit behind the dryer.
``You better deal with that,'' she said.
Rick was surprised. He imagined Sally's horror. She would be imagining rats scurrying over the faces of her sleeping children. And he was thinking the same thing.
He went to the hardware store and bought a box of rat poison. It looked like the turquoise nuggets you bought by the handful in Navajo country. He scattered the poison behind the dryer and in other strategic places.
The rat found a forgotten bag of dog food in back of the shed. He worked hard each night creating stashes of dog food about the place. He brought some into the house and deposited the dog food in a pair of golf shoes forgotten in a closet. Then he found the turquoise nuggets. He wasn't hungry so he took each nugget to the closet and filled both golf shoes all the way. A nice place to raise a big rat family with lots of food at hand.
Rick took a last tour of the empty house. All the poison had gone.
``That's a good thing,'' said the real estate lady. She smiled and looked around the empty, sun filled rooms.
``A nice place to raise a family,'' she said.