Sunday, July 25, 2010
Now I know these rats are not the filthy, disease-ridden sewer dwellers of the big city, but then again they're not Remy from Ratatouille. Nevertheless, they're into my stuff and they must go. It'd be one thing if they focused on one plant, I could easily sacrifice one of the hybrids and set it aside complete with searchlights and a marquee. But nooooo, they move from plant to plant nipping and gnawing like they're on some sort of foodie excursion. And they ruin everything they touch. It's uncanny how they seem to know that I'm gonna pick that near-perfectly-ripe tomato TOMORROW, for when tomorrow comes, I find it laying on the ground half-devoured, and I'm too late, again.
When Alberto Contador took advantage of Andy Schleck's broken chain during this year's Tour de France, Schleck told reporters, "My stomach is full of anger and I will take my revenge." I couldn't say it better myself.
Traps will be deployed at 2030 hours. I've chosen the Tomcat T-Rex style snap traps that worked well for me last season. Baited with a peanut butter/cheese cocktail, I'm quite confident.
Time to kick some rat ass.