An early Friday morning on the back porch in the Niagara, the sun is rising, birds are singing, the coffee is perking, the dogs are freaking out in the backyard because they’ve cornered another damn rat… it’s a fine late-summer morning. And yes, I said rat. It’s one of those things they don’t mention on the tourist websites, but the Niagara region has a serious rat problem in its urban areas. We’ve done everything we can — short of poison — to help remediate the rat problem in our neighbourhood, and we’ve still got to be vigilant that our dogs don’t eat the filthy things, because some of our neighbours do lay down poison and a dying rat can’t outrun a husky… “secondary poisoning by rat” being just one more thing I never expected I’d be worrying about in my early forties.
Of course, literal rats aren’t the only thing we’re apparently welcoming in the Niagara, we’ve got metaphorical ones too. (And the pulitzer for most obvious segue goes to…)
Continue reading “Rats and Nazis”