The one about a rat and projectile vomitting … otherwise a stunning day in Cape Town

{there are images that may upset sensitive viewers ….this might change your opinion on spaghetti bolognaise for some time ….this might make you reconsider having children …..ever}

Yesterday I am working in my home office and I hear this noise – a rustling sound.  I don’t think much of it as Jackson, my Maine Coone cat, lies under my desk (or on my desk as this image shows) and I naturally assume it is him making the little scratching sounds I keep hearing.

At some point I glance under the desk, and realise there is no Jackson, and I glance around the room and assess I am alone.  Clearly something is not right here.

The short of it is, the noise is coming from under the two seater couch.  I move  the couch, whilst I am on the couch, as I am petrified what ever it is will run over my bare feet.

I call Priveledge who comes in. After much to’ing and fro’ing where we both realise that between us we are terrified, I lift the couch and she looks under it.  Priveledge manages to get up from a full crouch position, leaps backwards about one and a half metres, to find herself standing on one of the kids plastic chairs – in what can only be described as with catlike grace and flexibility.

Impressed, didn’t realise she was that athletic actually.

I make a leap from the couch onto my desk chair, and there the two of us stand.  Priveledge says that she saw a HUGE rat.  Connor (who was home sick) brings in his own designed and manufactured mouse tral (don’t ask).

Priveledge looks at the trap and says it is not big enough as the rat is REALLY BIG.

Not really the news one wants to hear as one is standing on a plastic chair in the middle of one’s home barefoot.

After mentally working through several options – none of which included me getting within 2 metres of the rat – I called Roderick – our faithful, able and I hope brave. garden guy – and asked if he would please come catch the rat.  He came over and caught the rat.

It was not HUGE, but I really think when it comes to a brown sewer rat, size is not really an issue.  The issues are whether it is dead, and how quickly it can die.

I am all for “saving animals” but I think when you are dealing with an animal that has had such bad publicity like the rat i.e bubonic plague/black plague.  It is going to need to be the cure for cancer to even make a dent in that sort of publicity.

I do think they need to start a reality show where they have Spin Doctors and they get given really difficult campaigns and need to create an interest in a product./item/country/animal that no one would touch.

On the final show between the last two Spin Doctors playing for one million dollars, they need to come up with a campaign that makes the sewer rate loveable.  I would think a next to impossible ask, and if you can do that and change public sentament about something so repulsive odds are you deserve the money.

Rat caught, we dropped him into a dog carrier box, and took it down to the nature reserve and released him there.  He squealed and he was jumping in the box, and it was really not a warm fuzzy feeling.

I did not take a picture of the rat, he seriously freaked me out ……. like made my skin crawl.

In this story Connor is home, that is because he got sick the night before, and has been throwing up and complaining of cramping and just not looking good.

I collect Georgia and Isabelle later in the day.  We get home, and as soon as dinner is presented Georgia starts moaning she is not well and she is going to throw up.

To understand Georgia, she is a total hypercondriac.  If you sneeze, she will fake sneeze twice.  If she knocks her knee, it will be broken, and she will dig out her crutches and be a cripple for three days.  Within all this one tends to ignore her when she indicates any signs of illness – especially if it mimics what someone else has.

Georgia had spaghetti bolognaise and then a bath.  She was sitting on her bed drawing when the spaghetti bolognaise made a second appearance.  The bulk of it got absorbed by the duvet, pillow, sheets, mattress and her pyjamas.

She ran to the bathroom, puking as she went.

{This image makes me feel like Dexter at a crime scene, but instead of blood spatter, I deal with puke splutter …. my speciality….}

Got to the bathroom just in time to drop the mother load of partly digested spaghetti bolognaise, unfortunately not quite in the toilet.

Now I had two children retching – not always in turns, often at the same time.

My shortage of buckets became apparent.  So kids are violently ill, Kennith is away on a work conference that entails him overnighting at a wine farm …. you can imagine the heaps of sympathy I am feeling for him at this juncture.

Last night was fun, but did not allow for too much sleep.  There was much up’ing and down’ing to hold hair back, and give sips of water and basically time for me to look towards the ceiling and wonder where for art my help shall come from.

Today the toilet broke — I have no idea if it is in anyway related to the amount of spaghetti bolognaise that was being forced down it, but I am getting a plumber in later this afternoon.

I am bitterly disapppointed that I have a large hulking cat that is forever hunting, but could not hunt and catch the rat.  I also expected Dexter, the Boston Terrier, to at least smell the rodent and look for him.  Nada. Both of them are clearly hopeless.

Otherwise, how is your day going?