If you live in DC, you know about the rats.
Particularly if you live near restaurants, oh, do you know about the rats.
The rats of DC, some of them are as big as cats. And they're not afraid. If you happen to cross paths with one, the rat will give you a cursory glance, yawn, scratch its ass, light a cigar, and waddle on its merry way.
We regularly have rats in the alley. If you're sitting on the back deck, you can hear them squeaking and rustling.
So about a month ago, our downstairs tenant Stacey told Nick that she thought that the guys working at our house had banged into her mint and basil and chopped them off.
Nick immediately said to me, "I don't want to say this, but I'm going to bet that rats ate her plants."
We like Stacey and her boyfriend (and their dogs) a lot, so on the chance that it wasn't rats but rather Hector Bigwood and his accomplice, Nick brought it up with the builder. Whose guys said no, they hadn't banged into the plants.
And then a couple days ago, we got an email from Stacey, which said: You were right.
She'd planted more basil, mint, and parsley and set the pots outside.
The rats ate the basil and the mint. They left the parsley.
This is the final straw for Nick. We can't use rat poison because we don't want to endanger the dogs. He's searching around for those big old-fashioned rat traps.
So gross all around.