Pest Control
The Daily Chase! Free Newsletter - Sent by Chasey Delaney! xx
Schizophrenia has turned my gaze inward. I write like a memoirist on a daily basis. It provides a sense of control, a way to reshape my circumstances on my own terms and in my own words. This isn’t where I come to hide, it’s where I come to find myself, and in doing so I get to speak to you all!
Welcome to The Daily Chase! Free Newsletter.
MONDAY: 27JULY 2026
Dear Chasers!
PEST CONTROL
“I Won’t Hurt You But You Have To Go”
It’s funny how, not so long ago, the girl who would dream of making it to the other side of the world in pieces (only to be nursed back to life by the man with broken wings) is the same person who is afraid to go outside and won’t leave the house for three days straight now.
Plans to visit my mother today started out great but even as I was packing perfumes and books into a bag to take for her, I somehow knew the enthusiasm wouldn’t last long. It started with a ‘good morning message’ which turned into a ‘running late but not to worry I’ll be there soon’ and eventually a ‘sorry Mum the visit is off because…’.
Nobhead here has serious anxiety, agoraphobia and image issues which render her stuck in a self-conscious alternative reality where the only safe place is inside. What self preservation means to me at this moment is to surrender to the idea that people are observing me in the garden, that I might not make it back from the bin shed as the same person who left, and knowing that I can’t cope with nipping to get some noodles from Tesco.
I get scared.
I saved myself today from the harsh place of outside.
I decided to listen to my brain, play ball, get on side.
Sometimes it helps to do things as prevention if not a cure.
Instead of taking the bins out, I swapped jobs and cleaned the whole house, including the kitchen when it was a big mess because it had been his ‘turn’ too long. I smoked with my arm hanging out of the gap of a slightly open back door. I hid behind closed blinds while he was at the gym. I was jumping at every outside noise.
I kept the windows shut until I gave up. Having ‘give my head a wobble’ they were opened just enough to take the muggy atmosphere down a notch.
I was so fucking proud of myself for finding the carpet spray for the bedroom and the end result after sweeping it up. I feel like I’m in a monastery when sweeping the carpet, I’ve got a knack for doing it. The less I push the more comes up!
Its meditative and I don’t mind it. Obviously our hoover would be quicker but hate that bastard! It stinks of old musty trains and stale cat farts. Not that we have one. A cat -we don’t have a train either but if I did it’d be a ‘runaway’ - and never coming back.
We’ve got pest control coming next week for the rats in the back garden. They seem to be coming from next door to the right, and to the left, our garden is just a bridge between the two.
The other day, when my paranoia was rife and at its worst and me and him weren’t speaking to each other, I spent a lot of time sitting chain-smoking in the garden. I’d been there two minutes. I swear this bedraggled looking old rat came creeping out of the bush beside our back door and the poor thing ran straight into eye contact with me. I know who was more scared because it was shaking uncontrollably. “Oh FUCK!” it must have been thinking!
I was alarmed at the proximity of this petrified creature and wanted to make it feel better but I’ve heard all the stories about rats.
I know the Pied Piper fable, UB40 songs, the Black Death or Bubonic Plague from history, but mostly I remembered Splinter from the TNMT cartoon. All had influenced me a great deal, and everyone around me now was always telling me they are vermin. I don’t want rabies or anything, so I did what I thought might work. I sat still and shushed it away, then shooed it, then told it ‘I Won’t Hurt You But You Need To Go’.
None of which deterred it or worked to move it along, and its tiny, shiny raisin eyes reflected fear and concentration. This happened over a minute, but one thing I know from my internal experience, is that fear is not to fucked with. The sun beating down behind me made ears as pink as that little fuckers! It also made me a perfect target.
As far as I was aware, rats don’t attack to bite your neck, but when they feel cornered or trapped, they try to get away. They’re blind as a bat and dive towards the light. I figured it was going to somehow fly from the flagstones right at my face (about 4 feet higher than the ground).
I would panic, shitting myself jump off the chair, the rat wouldn’t make it over my shoulder or past my fat head. Instead, it would bang into my chest, taking a nose dive, stick its claws in my skin, slide down, abseiling down my tits, and end up biting my nipple to halt its fall (in fact it would have worked as a bungee cord ‘free lift’ and stretched to the floor!).
Now I was trapped and scared and was in no mood for moving anywhere or trying to leap over it either, last thing I’d want is a rat up my fucking dress nibbling my fanny. In that moment I knew I would never survive without him.
I shouted him to come outside and be careful and kind but do it now!
He immediately opened the door and got the old rat running sideways almost to avoid him. He said, if I had a gun I’d shoot it then ran over to where it was heading, I shouted “don’t hurt it!” He didn’t. He just said, “it’s old that, its dying”.
I remembered all those smaller, tiny, baby rats I’d seen about seven all together in both next door gardens and that when we reported the infestation. I felt saddened, because I think that dying rat was the mother of them all.
I see the local stray cats chasing the babies and sometimes they get caught. The neighbour who drinks on her balcony at night time to the right of us, it looks down on our gardens, was out listening to Michael Bubbly (or whatever it was) on her radio. She called down to me, my real first name (which I hate anyone knowing!).
Everyone calls me Chase or Chasey but she always calls me the name on my bank card, the name for authorities, my birth name, I fucking hate that he told her my actually dead-name. (I changed it to my childhood nickname when I was teenager, nothing to do with gender or identity like young people do these days).
She did us a favour about 7 years ago by taking him and an old fridge of ours to the tip in her little car. He was nervous and when she asked about me he must have given her that name, only Mum and relatives use that name though. He met me as Chase. It’s only since 2022 that I added the ‘Y’ to be less confusing and more feminine. Also Chasey Delaney has a ring to it like ‘Rock Star’ shit.
She told me the rats have been climbing the trees and now the birds are all the way at the top because of it. She said the guy next door to me keeps feeding the rats, she knows he’s doing a nice thing by feeding the birds but its feeding them “he needs to stop” she said.
Now I like the guy next door he’s in his 80’s and since we’ve lived here he’s fought about 4 difference diagnoses of Cancer. Bowel, Skin, Lungs and I think there’s another one. He’s still receiving treatment now after some few years respite in remission here and there. He’s been feeding those birds for years and years. I’ve never seen one rat in our gardens until now. I told her it’s not his fault.
As much as I always thought well of her, I didn’t like her pointing the finger at my neighbour. I informed her I’m expecting a visit and it will get sorted. She said, “yeah, these rats have been here for years, its the heatwave and him feeding the birds why we’re now overrun”. I just shrugged. I know she was a little bit tipsy.
I didn’t agree with her on any of it although I knew it wasn’t wise to put food out while the rats were inhabiting our gardens.
I had been told by email from Pest Control that I should keep my house clean, no food lying around, no rubbish, so they won’t be attracted to it and try to come inside. They also said don’t feed the birds. I’ve been worrying about this appointment since I made it. I’ve cancelled it once already then made a fresh one.
I don’t want to be the one to tell the guy not to feed his beloved birds on what could be his last days/months/year of his life. Every day to him is precious as his time may be limited. Its more to him that just throwing a few bread crust into the grass. He as house in the tree with a feeder, a bird bath, a box on his window for them to come eat out of. He gets deliveries with massive bags of feed for them, he’s out at least twice a day to refill them. Its his hobby. He loves those birds.
Some days he doesn’t get out of the house in public on to be picked up by Ambulance to go to chemo. If it wasn’t for feeding the birds he’d be cooped up all day. Its a passion of a lifetime. He used to read a lot of books. His house has a massive wall to ceiling library in it and he tells me, he “hasn’t got the concentration to read anything at the minute” and that he has started doing puzzle books and looking through magazines. I don’t think he has seen the rats.
On the other side our neighbour who is the newest to join the row, puts out some Chinese fat/grease/feed stuff for the pigeons and she has stopped since we told her about the rats, now she puts orange peel on the grass instead. I don’t know if its to deter the rats of the cats from shitting in her garden. Those cats were a bit of a pest before and now look how much we’re pleased to see them!
Tables always turn, I feel like my life is just me strapped to it like a wheel and fate is there blindfolded throwing knifes at me as the universe keeps on spinning. Tables always turn. See you on the flip! xx
Love from Chasey! ..x
