Lomaster: In the 80s of the last century I lived in a military town, in Ukraine, in a dormitory for young officers. Accordingly, the sewerage is also centralized, like now in cottage towns. The room was on the second floor of a two-storey three-way Dosa.
When I arrived one morning from duty, I walked in the usual circle: the toilet-shower-coach. I took a magazine, wiped out a newspaper chair, smoked ‘Cosmos’, turned around to sit down, dropped down the caliph and... who struck me to look around... In the toilet sat and looked at me a huge wet rotting rat!!! to
Although I was a young, strong, shameless lieutenant, but he was no worse than the lady. The rat wasn’t scared at all and kept crawling at me. At my screams a neighbor ran around the room and grabbed his boots and stumbled onto the beast. Only then did the rat dive into the bottom of the toilet and it was.
A neighbor — a funny guy — with a serious look told me that this case is not uncommon. And he asked: Do I know why most rats are not cats, but cats? It turns out that against cats, rats have a centuries-old approach. During the fight, the rat turns around and bites the cat for the eggs! After that, the cat is no longer afraid of her. (The men understand me.) "She probably took you for a big cat", the comrade summed up.
How complicated my preparation, to the simple procedure of sending natural needs, I will not tell you.