A rat. Or rats.

CHAPTER 4

The bravest man in the world came the next day. Niki was meeting some friends that morning and had told me to make sure the man came when she was there, I imagine so she could fulfill her official role of overseeing bug and/or animal removal. But when he called saying he could come in 15 minutes, I told him to get here as soon as he could.

Trevor arrived 15 minutes later and I began retelling the story: The crunching, the silence, the crunching, I heard him over here, then over here. Eventually, it was time to pop the attic door and take a look around.

"Do you think whatever it is is still up there?" I asked, meekly.

"Probably," Trevor said, with a casualness that only comes with being a professional animal catcher. "Let's take a look." And up he went.

Well, at least half his body. He poked around and about a minute later produced a tiny speck of something in his hand before uttering words that would play in my head for weeks: "You've got a rat. Or rats."

He then proceeded to show off the tiniest rat dropping probably ever produced. How he found it among the piles of tiny rocks and tar from our old roof I'll never know. "It's not infested, but there's something up there. I'll go get some traps and I'll set them up there." Down he came, and there I stood, frozen.

The attic door was open. I was convinced that while Trevor returned to his van, a parade of rats would instantly be marching lock-step down from the open hatch and into our house. What was taking Trevor so long? Where is he! He said they're still up there. They'll be coming down any second now! What will we do then?!!

Foot steps. He was returning. In he came with his traps, and up he went again. He sealed the door and gave me our instructions, which consisted of this:

1. If you hear the traps go, call me.

2. If you don't hear the traps, but you smell some funk, call me.

3. If a week goes by, no sound, no funk, call me and we'll reset the trap.

I chuckled at the words 'smell some funk' but Trevor said: "Don't laugh. You'll know."

Trevor then took a look around outside and presented THEORY No. 1: When the roof was redone, there was a vent that wasn't screened, a small one, but "rats only need a hole the size of a quarter to squeeze through," he said. A quarter!! So, he sealed up the vent. But, he noted, there were at least three vents to the crawl space that looked suspect.

"You mean, it could have crawled underneath the house, up the wall and into the attic?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

"It's possible. Not likely, but I've seen rats get up harder stuff than a wall."

Not what I wanted to hear. His suggestion: If we catch it soon, then it got in through the roof.

And then, he was gone.