There is a rat in the garage.  A large sleek brown field rat.  Quite a
pretty brown rat in fact.  It was brought to my attention my Molly and Jake
who had suddenly started acting like bird dogs over a corner in the garage.
Unfortunately I has the poor judgment to mention the cats behavior to
Charlie.  Now he is more fixated on the rat than the cats are.

He has suddenly decided that the cover to the attic crawl space (that I've
been after him to replace for nearly a year) must be replaced immediately.
He can't go up on a ladder, and I'm sure not going.

There is a proper field mouse field across the street.  I have no doubt the
mouse can go back to the field when I get the cats inside.  I also have to
doubt that if it wanted to spend time in the attic it has already done so.
And will again even if it is covered.

I think it might be a bad idea for me to mention to Charlie that this is not
likely to be a bachelor rat.  Or even an old maid rat.  A rat this size has
a family.  (I just hope its family is out in the field)

Jo