The Rat

My wife called me from my desk this morning (I was wrestling with possession, as usual) and showed me a ziplock bag with three grains of rice in it. Except they weren't. They were rat droppings. There was also a half gnawed pear.

We have slightly different takes. Of course we both want rid, and summoned a Pied Piper who laid a lot of traps. But she's disgusted and I'm more phlegmatic. 'It's a rat,' I say helpfully. 'We've lived with them forever.'
'I knew you'd take the 'oh its all part of our history' line,' she said.