I’ve been writing about Zip lately and gushing over Zinnia’s therapy work, giving Bud less attention except for some cute photos of him lying in the sun. Last night, he showed us what a working dog can do and how much heart he has. I rarely think of small dogs as powerful and brave, but they often are way out of proportion to their size.
Boston Terriers were bred in Boston to hunt rats, and he had all the working drive of a champion border collie last night.
The struggle with a very smart and tough rat went on all night.
Maria and I were latecomers; I joined the fray at 4 p.m. Maria came in at 5 when all hell broke loose, and we realized that Bud had trapped the rat inside the refrigerator, where it had been hiding, storing stolen food for at least 24 hours completely out of sight.
He obviously tried to escape, but Bud kept heading him off and challenging him. As a result, there were all kinds of papers, calendars, and unique papers with smells rats don’t like all around the kitchen.
Yesterday, Maria looked under the refrigerator – Bud kept going there and pointing her there – and she removed boxes full of crackers. What was frightening was that we had no idea where the rat was, if he had been there all night, or if there was another entry hole somewhere we had missed.
I did a Sherlock Holmes and thought about what was most likely, and it added up to certainty that he was still in the refrigerator. Bud was guiding us to his location when we pulled the fridge and saw that all the protective cardboard had been ripped to bits; this could only mean that Bud had been tearing the cardboard apart to get at the rat, and his stare told us he was still there.
Bud worked closely with Maria, as in the night before, he guided her to the rat’s location, got her to look at the back of the refrigerator, and told us where he was. He was working with her, and she was getting the messages.
Bud never left his post all night, sitting by the refrigerator waiting for the rat to show himself. We led him out to eliminate, and the rat, ever alert, sensed his absence, zoomed out of his hiding place, and headed to the bathroom, where the rats used to get in with a hole they had opened through the basement.
We had sealed the hole, and he was trapped. Maria could put a box over him and take him out to the woods. As I wrote, I was going to shoot him, but she couldn’t bear to see that, so she let him go. I suspect we haven’t seen his last; rats should return to their homes from as far as 50 miles away.
Bud is ready, and so are we.
The most astonishing part of this was seeing how brilliant the rat was.
He avoided all our traps, climbed cabinets, opened seal boxes, took scores of cares into the refrigerator’s inner workings, and hid them with great skill.
Without Bud, we never would have thought to look there, which was the key to getting him out. By the time we were there, Bud had panicked him into making a mistake and getting cornered. Even then, we had to take a baseboard heater apart to flush him out. He could slip into the tiniest spaces and squeeze through in an instant.
It was amazing to see what he avoided, what he grabbed, and where he hid both it and himself. He was so skillful that it was scary. We weren’t sure how to find him and get him out.
It worked out, at least for now. I respect Maria’s decision not to drown him, but this means he very well might return. I understand why she did that.
Bud tearing apart the refrigerator covering was amazing for a small dog with a small row of teeth. At that rate, he could have pulled all the wires and plugs out of the machine and ruined it. I can’t quite imagine how either of these animals did what they did. We’re not sure, but the refrigerator is probably salvageable.
Bud is still sleeping; he’s worn out, and I suspect the rat is resting somewhere as well. My guess is this battle isn’t over. Bud will stay out of his crate at night from now on, and we’ll keep our eyes on those holes.
It was a long and harrowing night, but the most interesting part was seeing how two very different animals used all of their instincts and special skills to battle one another for hours. It was astounding how much work the rat had to do to get those boxes onto the floor, open them, move all their contents into hiding across the room, and zoom through the tiniest spaces. Bud was in his crate the first night but was on guard last night. If the rat is as intelligent as he is, he might not come back.
There was no clear winner until the humans showed up with their brushes and dustpans. It was a remarkable evening, and I won’t soon forget it.
And all of us, people and animals, are worn out.
