If yall recall, TK (my wife) and I live in a shop building, with living quarters inside.
Sitting here in the living room over the past week or so we have been hearing scraping noises in the ceiling. After a couple of days, I finally put out some rat bait in the "attic". Two days ago TK notices some "flour" looking stuff on the floor, and we hear noises again, and then notice a real small hole in the ceiling, and the noise is coming from there. Sheetrock dust is coming out like the sand in an hourglass.
My reaction was to hollar and beat on the ceiling. The noise stops, I check my rat bait upstairs and see that somebody has been partaking.
Saturday after I get home from burgers at Mom's house, I find more "flour" on the floor, and Mr. Rat is at it again. I get a chair and get my head right up there and listen. After weighing all the factors, testing the windspeed, breaking wind, and clearing my throat, I make a decision. Mr. Rat is going to die. I get right at the ceiling, I still hear the sound, and I quickly RAM my pocket knife into the ceiling, hoping to stick Mr. Rat in the face. Turns out that all that is left on my side of the sheetrock is the paint, and my knuckles disappeared into the ceiling. When I pulled the knife back, I check the blade. No blood. Missed.
However, Mr. Rat is now quiet again. In fact, I venture to say he has probably wet himself. But now, here I am examining the situation that includes the sudden appearance of a 2" hole in the ceiling, and the prospect of a RAT coming down through there. With available materials, I seal the hole (tin foil and duct tape). But before doing so, I poke a package of rat bait up through the hole. Hopefully, Mr. Rat, after having encountered an unexepected attack from his workings, will settle down to a nice meal. His final one.
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