I was bit by a rat today.

Of course, that’s because I grabbed it, as it was scrambling around the no-hiding-places new room Jay’s started building for the goats.

And he didn’t just bite me. He took hold of my thumb and hung. on. Showing his little ½-inch teeth as he did his mini-bulldog best to make his teeth meet before he relaxed his jaw.

It’s the first time I’ve ever been bit by a rat, and I didn’t really react, because I was so surprised– at his tenacity as much as anything.

I switched my hold to his tail as soon as he let go, and he promptly began spinning like a dervish, trying to get back at my hand.

At that exact moment, I was speaking with a new acquaintance who was there with her 4- and 6-year-olds.

Not really sure where this came from, but I asked the mama, in the same polite tone I’d been using up to that point, “Would you mind stepping out? I think I’m going to end this critter, and I’m not sure you want to be here.”

She looked a bit startled but did as I asked.

My heebeegeebees were pretty much activated at this point and I just did the easiest thing. I whacked it against the plywood wall. Then after the satisfying ?thunk?, I carried the barely twitching rat (still hanging by its tail) out of the room where the mother and children were now standing (as I suppose is to be expected) looking a little confused.

I hadn’t really suggested anywhere for them to go. My bad.

The little boy started asking questions about the rat that didn’t quite compute in my sleep-shorted mind, and I just lifted the lid on an empty metal trash can and dropped the little carcass inside.

Amazing how thoroughly the metal lid ended that topic of conversation.

What I’m desperately curious about now, is how this looked to the mama.  Here I’m talking hay quality and milk-handling procedures one minute, then Oh excuse me while I end this rat.

I am so weird.