We’ve thrown just about everything we have against the giant female rat who has been skillfully avoiding traps, sonic noises, traps with peanut butter and crackers, and odor repellent (we threw out all of the poison; it was too creepy).

Last night, we unleashed our most powerful weapon yet: Bud

We have a Boston Terrier in the house, Bud, our most skillful and successful hunter (until Zip). He usually sleeps in his crate at night, but we left the door open so he could wander downstairs and go after the rat if she reappeared (she may be dead or gone).

Bud is always hunting for squirrels, moles, mice, and rats if he can find one. Boston Terriers were bred in Boston in the mid-1800s to kill the rats who were running amok in that city. They did a great job.

Bud is the best rat controller I can imagine; he is fearless, savvy, and determined. Like most Boston Terriers, he thinks he’s a dinosaur with huge teeth. He makes up in spirit and drives what he lacks in size and muscle. Go Bud.

We thought of bringing Zip into the basement for a few days to catch the rat there, but I don’t believe that’s a good idea.

Zip, like Bud, is very happy where he is, and he is fond of his heated cat house in the ban. He takes his napes in there on cold days.

Border collies are meant to hang around sheep, and Boston Terriers are intended to kill rats. Go, Bud, show the rat your stuff. When we came downstairs this morning, Bud was in the bathroom by the hole we think the rat uses to enter the house and up through the basement.

He was locked in. I doubt any rat would walk past that. Bud never forgets to back off or let go. He knows where she is.