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On a quiet suburban street at night, Nanna the Rat Catcher parks her glowing yellow three-wheeler outside a sleepy house, streetlamp light reflecting off her helmet as she checks a pinging phone in her gloved hand.
Bedtime settled over the quiet suburb. Nanna, suburb superhero rat catcher, puttered up. Her yellow three-wheeler glowed at a house. “Got a call?” she asked. Her phone pinged; “On my way!”
Inside a dim kitchen at midnight, Nanna kneels on tiled floor, flashlight beam highlighting humane wire traps and peppermint puffs she arranges precisely beside her open metal toolkit.
Inside, Nanna stretched her knees, grin steady. “No worries, little nibblers,” she whispered. She set humane traps and peppermint puffs. Her flashlight winked; her toolkit clicked. “We’ll go outside, safe,” she promised.
In a low-lit basement corridor, Nanna smiles gently while guiding three small brown rats with twitching whiskers up a wooden ramp into a cushioned metal trap, her hand hovering over the quiet latch.
Nanna listened: tiny patters, curious noses. “This way, darlings,” she crooned softly. She placed ramps, then blocked sneaky gaps. Little feet skittered into the comfy trap. Click—gentle and safe.
Under pale moonlight at the field’s edge, Nanna opens the trap as three small brown rats with twitching whiskers scamper into tall grass, her yellow three-wheeler idling on the dirt track behind her.
Under moonlight, Nanna released them near fields. “Find snacks in nature, not kitchens,” she advised. Back at the house, she tidied crumbs. A note waited: “Sleep tight; lids on bins.”