Space underneath house crawling with unwanted pets

I’ve had some interesting responses to some of my columns pertaining to animals over the years. Not all of them were warm and supportive. A few called me out for my insensitivity and lack of consideration for our family’s deceased pets in the past. Rest assured that losing a pet is a traumatic experience for any family and the Stroupes share sensitivities with those who believe we have been placed here to protect those innocent creatures in our midst. However, this column may get me in trouble again. By sharing the Stroupes’ most recent experiences in the crawl space of our home, I risk irritating some who feel that even the smallest of creatures have basic rights. To provide context, you must first understand that the master bedroom where my wife and I reside is located directly above the opening to the crawl space under our house. Recently my wife began to complain about some interesting odors she detected in our midst. Her nasal sensitivities are well advanced compared to mine so I hadn’t noticed anything unusual. When you live in a house with four other males, a wife should expect odiferous occurrences to be rather commonplace, especially since our bedroom connects to the main bathroom in our home. Slightly offended that our personal hygiene practices had come into question, I defended my three boys and myself by informing my wife that her nose was hypersensitive and often possessed an imagination of its own. I stuck with this theory until three days later, when a strange and unpleasant odor nearly thrust me from my bed one evening. “Okay, I’m ready to listen,” I told the wife. “What could it be?” After much investigation, we surmised that the unpleasantries originated from the crawl space directly beneath us. Sure enough, an empty box of rat poison smiled at us when we opened the crawl space entrance door. A wafting stench also greeted us. As we pulled out strips of insulation one by one, it became obvious that the poison had done its job entirely too efficiently. Decomposed remains and other rodent remnants too horrible to describe lined several strips of insulation. “At least now the honor of my personal hygiene has been redeemed,” I said to lighten the moment. I received no response, not even a glance in my direction. It was decided that next time we would use those insensitive disposable snap traps under the house. And we would check them often. And we would make a stronger effort to train the family how to close the crawl space door when accessing items underneath, all of which survived the onslaught relatively undisturbed. A day or so later, a strong wind carried the strips of insulation up, up, and away, offering them as a gift to the field behind us and the empty lot beside us. It would make for a better column if I told you that this solved our disposal problem, but in reality, the insulation was retrieved and properly disposed of. I received permission to write this column only after its completion. Fortunately I had already added the part where I tell you that everything smells lovely now- as far as crawl spaces are concerned- and our bedroom has returned to its springtime freshness. The bathroom remains an issue.