Rat (Rude Awakening)

It’s midnight.

My 7 year old son, Travis, barges in all confused and still asleep. A rude awakening. He walks into my en-suite, turns full circle and walks back out again. Looking around, eyes squinting in the darkness. He looks straight through me, like I’m not even there, sat up in my bed staring at him in a puzzled haze. He jumps as if he wasn’t expecting me to be in myown room in the middle of the night. I send him in to Nanny (who was sleeping round that night and this is how she earns her keep) I lay back down ready to drift back to sleep again, when I hear a noise from the en-suite. Soft at first, barely noticeable. But then again, like a gentle scratching. I begrudgingly pull myself from the warmth of my wife’s buttock and sneak in to see if I can work out the noise. It’s coming from the cupboard under the sink. A cupboard that was last opened on Saturday, four days ago.

Great. 

I open the door to the cupboard. 

Splat!

Something brown, furry, and terrified falls out. In a flash, it scurry’s away behind the toilet. Please don’t be what I think you are! I quickly shut the door to my bedroom, put on some rubber gloves from said cupboard and bend down to investigate. There stands a huge rat. Cute, but not invited to this slumber party. As I inch closely to it. It bolts, squeezes under the door like some sort of contortionist and into the bedroom. The same bedroom my heavily asleep wife and toddler are currently residing. It runs down my wife’s side of the bed so I chase it and it’s gone. Was it a waking dream? Hypnopompic hallucinations? There’s nothing. No sight of the pest and no noises.

Back in bed, down to sleep. 

A few wide eyed and confused minutes pass and there it is again. A scurrying, scratching sound to my left. It’s in the bookcase! I spend the next twenty-thirty minutes in this ridiculous midnight nudist ballet.  Chasing it back and forth behind my bed, clothes shelves, and bookshelves. I clamber around, tackle swinging freely, hands sheathed in golden rubber. The armour of champions. Then the movement seized. It finally finds solace. Under my wife laden mattress in the ottoman underneath the bed. 

Great! Now I have to wake up Sleeping Beauty. 

Five to ten minutes go by of me repeatedly saying a variety of cute (and not-so-cute) pet-names I have for her, trying (and failing) to wake her up. Not even the words “There is a rat under your pillow” seemed to work.

She’s a heavy sleeper at the best of times and an even heavier one at the worst.

I finally get her and the baby out of the room and downstairs on the sofa. Neither of them taking a step for themselves. Still sleeping, still oblivious. 

Now. The chase is on, and so are my marigolds!

I go under the bed and there it is. The beady eyes of fear and plague stare up at me. Playing a game of chicken I was not going to lose. I pounce. A startled jump out from my bed, and it’s back behind the bookcase. Behind the bed. Round the Ikea Kallax unit. The wash basket. Until finally, it made the mistake of seeking refuge back in the bathroom. 

This time, it’s not getting away. 

I calmly and quietly walk over to the bathroom. I pad the crack beneath the door with my duvet and close it tight.  Fool me once.  The rat is sitting on the piping behind the toilet again, it knows there’s no escape this time. I see it flinch as the door shuts. Just as the latch clicks, it makes a break for it. My amber gauntlets scoop the little bugger up but it bites me. Straight through the rubber and into my ring finger. A knee-jerk reaction flung my wrists skyward, as the sharp, diseased teeth penetrated my skin. The rat soared through the air. I watched in awe as I unintentionally made a shot better than any free throw Shaq attempted in his whole career. 

Splash.

The rat lands in the toilet and scuttles itself round the U-bend.  I flush. I flush again.  It’s done.  I stand there victorious.  Naked but a pair of punctured marigolds. I bring my wife and toddler back to their chamber for the night.  It’s now 00:46am.  I need a cigarette. 

I can’t sleep.