Collateral Damage

This is a story of unintended consequences, the Internet, and an attempt to un-stick the very stuck. But first, did I mention the rat problem?

Sometime last October, as I was preparing for a trip to Europe, I opened our storage closet, which is really a section of partially finished basement, to haul out a piece of luggage. Quelle surprise! Rodents had set up housekeeping in one of the old suitcases. Their housing efforts were quite an achievement, given that that the storage closet is very near our bedroom and none of us -- not the dog, nor Dennis, nor I -- had detected any incursion. We never heard a squeak.

Mercifully, at the time I went looking for my suitcase, the creatures were either out for the day, or had moved on to other accommodations. After much vacuuming and disposal of old baggage, Dennis and I discussed what to do. Since we were leaving the country in a few days, we decided to wait and see if the storage closet showed any further evidence of squatters upon our return. Several weeks later, the closet was unchanged, showing no signs of rodent life. Problem solved, we hoped.

But sometime in February, Dennis, Nick, and the dog all heard scratching at different times in another part of the house, in the walls behind our laundry area. Clearly, we needed professional help. I made the call, but to get a head start on the exterminator, I set out for the hardware store for some DIY supplies. The helpful woman at our neighborhood, not-a-chain hardware sold me some rat poison and some sticky traps, which carried no risk of crushing one's fingers. I scattered the traps in the garage, and Dennis put the poison under the house where the dog couldn't get it. (Apparently, this type of rat poison is only activated when the rats have a glass of water, and lacking a water source under the house, the reasoning is that they will succumb outside and not under one's kitchen. At least, that's the theory.)

Working with Ernie, the exterminator, we plugged up all possible rodent entry points. During the next few weeks, Ernie checked the traps regularly, but we never ensnared any actual beasts, which I took as a sign that the furry folks had truly moved on. Eventually, Ernie declared us rat-free and took his monstrous traps with him. I, however, left the two glue board traps I had purchased in corners of the garage, just in case.

Meanwhile, as the rat events were unfolding, Dennis and I had both sighted a very adorable lizard, who had taken up residence in the yard. He seemed to be living under the patio table and feeding off the local insect life, which was fine with us. All was harmonious for a time, with the lizard setting up housekeeping outside and the rats blocked from further domicile inside. But the peace didn't last. Following the law of unintended consequences, the lizard ventured beyond the confines of the yard, wandered into the garage, and slithered right onto one of the sticky traps.

Neither Dennis nor I had the wherewithal to cope with a mortally stuck lizard, so for a day or two, we just averted our eyes every time we entered the garage. But eventually, I summoned up my courage, reached into the corner, and picked up the sticky trap with the intention of disposing of our reptilian friend. But then he flicked his tongue at me. Our lizard was very much alive and very much glued in his tracks.

Debating how to proceed, I consulted with Nick, who responded as all people under 30 would: He turned to the Internet and googled "un-stick rodent glue boards." Within 60 seconds, certainly no more than that, we were perusing a diatribe that highlighted the downsides of sticky traps, which mentioned, as I had already learned first-hand, that they don't really kill the prey. That job is left for you. The website also gave advice on how, should one undergo a change of heart, a mouse or rat might be released from this sticky predicament. Bingo.

So picture this, if you will: Nick and I are on our hands and knees on the garage floor. A bottle of vegetable oil and a box of q-tips are nearby. Both of us are applying oil around and, as we are able, under the lizard's belly, feet, tail, and throat, trying to counter the adhesive effects of the glue. Eventually, the oil did the trick, and we freed him. He slithered off under his own power, heading into the dark cover of the garage to recover from his ordeal.

Several days have gone by since this event, and no lizard sightings. I'm still hopeful that this glue-boarding incident, while definitely torture, did not lead to his untimely passing.