Comments & Curiosities -- Peter Buffa

Got rats? We do. Actually, so do you. Round these parts, if you have

ivy, palms or climbing vines, you got rats. You may never see them, but

they’re there. Commonly called “roof rats,” because they love to scurry

around on your roof. If you are very unlucky, they will gnaw through the

ventilation screens beneath the eaves and set up little rat condos inside

your walls. Disgusting.

Let me set the scene. On Thursday morning, my wife and I were doing

morning things, which at one point caused both of us to be in the

kitchen, foraging for morning food.

“Look,” my wife said, in an excited tone, pointing out the window with

the index finger on her right hand. “See it?” she said.

“See what?” I said, in response to her question.

“There’s a rat. Right there!”

With that, I turned my attention back to my citrus juice, which was

orange, and continued to idly page through the morning paper,

uninterested and unimpressed.

We each have our primordial fear. Could be flying, could be spiders,

mine is rats. It all began with childhood, during which I was a child. I

won’t bore you with the details, but it had to do with baseball, a small

park on the Bronx River and a sharp line drive hit by John Francis

Spencer, who preferred “Jackie.” His mother, Nellie, called him “John

Francis” in her thick brogue. He hated that, so of course we always

called him “John Francis,” in the best brogue we could muster.

Anyway, knowing my phobia, my wife will occasionally try a rat trick.

“Look, there’s a rat.” “I think I saw a rat.” “Look at that cute

squirrel, or is it a rat?” Incredibly funny.

Thus, on Thursday morning, I paid little attention to the alleged

rodent sighting, until my wife said “Look” a second time, accompanied by

a sharp slap to the back of my head, which almost always gets my

attention. I looked and there he was, scurrying back and forth across a

brick walkway, gray body and pink tail, as bold and thoroughly revolting

as could be, which was pretty darn revolting in my opinion.

There was ranting, raving and some hyperventilation on my part,

accompanied by feelings of desperation, inadequacy and impending doom. On

my wife’s part, there was total calm and assurances that she would take

care of it, which she did. Don’t ask.

So imagine my surprise, if not astonishment, when the very next day,

which would be Friday, a local paper, which shall remain unnamed, carries

this headline large and bold: “South O.C. Sees Rise in Rats.”

One can’t describe the feeling of relief that washed over me. It isn’t

just us, I thought. They haven’t come just for me. They’re everywhere.

All right, this isn’t south Orange County technically, but rats don’t

carry Thomas Guides. To a rat, latitude is meaningless.

According to the article, “The roof-loving rodents have increased

steadily in the area. The grand jury wants to step up enforcement.” Hmm.

I had exactly the same question - the grand jury? I would think assessing

charges of murder, mayhem and political corruption wouldn’t leave a lot

of time for roof rats, but obviously, I am wrong.

“In a report released Thursday,” the article continued, “the grand

jury called on the Orange County Vector Control District, which tracks

disease-causing animals, to bill people whose overgrown plants allow rats

to multiply.”

But the Vector Control District -- and no, I don’t why they call it

“vector” control either -- isn’t biting. Despite references in the grand

jury report to typhus and bubonic plague, Vector Control District

director James Webb said roof rats in Orange County don’t carry deadly

diseases. But according to grand jury member Kenda Marlin, “Rats are

undesirable even if they’re healthy rats.”

I have to go with Kenda on this one, Jim. I don’t care if a rat bathes

in Lysol and wears a surgical mask, I want the little beast gone and

preferably deceased. According to Marla Hester of Irvine, “I hear them in

the walls and in the ceilings. They wake me up at night scurrying all

around.” Yuck. Gag me with the plague.

When Vector Control gets a rat call, the current policy is to put out

rat poison and suggest a good snipping and clipping for the offending

foliage. But the grand jury says the time for suggestions is over. They

want Vector Control to check back to make sure the overgrowth is over,

and if not, send out a snipping and clipping crew to do the job, then

bill the property owner. They also want a formal response from the Vector

Control District in 90 days.

This is war, I tell you. Battling bureaucracies, homeowners and

rodents. How will it end? I don’t know. But it won’t be pretty. Never

underestimate a rat. They are intelligent, clever, devious and do not

have good values. But this is a war we cannot lose.

“There is many a man here who looks on war as all glory. But boys, it

is all hell,” said Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman.

I think I see something. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at PtrB4@aol.com.