Man, what a day! I swear, being a ratcatcher in Donnycarney is like being in a never-ending circus. So, I wake up, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking about the rats. Ugh, those little furballs. I grab my gear—trap, bait, gloves, the whole shebang. I’m ready to tackle the rat problem on Kilmore Road.
First stop, this old pub, The Donnycarney Inn. You know, the one with the creaky floors and the smell of stale beer? Yeah, that one. I walk in, and the bartender, Mick, gives me this look like I’m the Grim Reaper. “You here for the rats or the pints?” he jokes. I laugh, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, I’d rather deal with a hundred rats than one pint of your awful lager.”
So, I head to the back, and bam! There’s a family of rats having a full-on rave. I mean, these guys are partying like it’s New Year’s Eve. I’m talking disco lights from the fridge, crumbs everywhere. I’m like, “Seriously? You guys couldn’t pick a better spot?” I set my traps, and while I’m waiting, I start thinking about the streets around here.
Donnycarney’s got its charm, ya know? The houses on Collins Avenue are all cute and cozy, but then you got the dodgy alleys where the rats thrive. It’s like a rat paradise. I’m just about to lose hope when I hear a squeak. I turn, and there’s this massive rat, like a furry little tank. I swear, it looked at me like, “What you gonna do, huh?”
I’m not even kidding, I almost lost it. I’m there, trying to catch this beast, and it darts under a table. I’m crawling on the floor, looking like a total idiot. People are staring, and I’m like, “Yeah, just your friendly neighborhood ratcatcher, nothing to see here!”
Finally, I trap the little monster. I’m feeling like a champ, right? But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Of course! Just my luck. I’m soaked, and I’m thinking, “Great, now I smell like wet dog and rat.” I trudge down to the next spot, which is on the corner of the Malahide Road.
I get there, and it’s a whole different scene. This lady, Mrs. O’Reilly, is freaking out. “They’re in my kitchen! They’re in my kitchen!” she screams. I’m like, “Calm down, lady, I’m on it!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Why do I always get the crazy ones?”
I go in, and it’s a mess. I mean, there’s cheese everywhere, and I’m like, “No wonder they’re here!” I set up traps, and while I’m working, I can’t help but notice the framed pictures of her cats. “You got cats, and you still got rats?” I ask. She just shrugs. Classic.
After a while, I catch a couple of the little buggers, and I’m feeling pretty good. But then, I step outside again, and guess what? The rain’s turned into a full-on storm. I’m soaked to the bone, and I’m just standing there, thinking, “Why do I do this?”
But then, I remember. I love this job. I love the chaos, the unpredictability. I love Donnycarney, with its quirky streets and characters. I mean, where else can you catch rats and have a pint with Mick afterward?
So, I head back to the pub, drenched but happy. I walk in, and Mick’s got a pint waiting for me. “You look like a drowned rat!” he laughs. I raise my glass, “To Donnycarney, the land of rats and rain!”
And just like that, I’m ready for whatever tomorrow throws at me. Bring it on!