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As my wife's and my children grow older, I dread the day after a child's sleepover. Sleepovers should just be called 'overs,' as in "It will be all over for you if you talk to my daughter today."

I have learned it is possible to harness the power of a tired teen. It all began a few weeks ago at bedtime when my bride and I heard teeth gnashing coming from the bathroom.

"Do you hear that?" I stammered to my bride, sitting up.

"Yeah," she replied. "It's Abby scratching at the backdoor." Abby is my companion Labradoodle.

"No," I said. "It's coming from the bathroom."

"It's not," she uttered. "It's Abby. I heard it all the time from our farm dogs."

I went to sleep, not questioning farmer's daughter wisdom.

The next night we heard it again at 11 p.m. and every hour until 4 a.m. My wife's confidence was shaken, evidenced by her polar bear pajamas stuffed into my boots while carrying a broom handle. We discovered a hole beneath the bathroom sink and sawdust piled neatly underneath.

"The good news is that it's not a bat," explained the Pest Control man. "The bad news is it's not a mouse."

Bad news?

"It's doing too much damage."

Our abode had been invaded through a ground-level dryer vent with a stuck flap. My dad came to help install a secure vent. During our work, we heard a POP, followed by the lights dimming. We shrugged and continued on our fix-it journey to find nothing unusual about the dryer's innards.

The ventilation eventually repaired, the vermin had no way in - or out - of the house. I drove to the hardware store for glue traps and D-Con. The clerk suggested I might have a woodchuck. From bat to mouse to woodchuck; Sasquatch couldn't be far off in the guessing horizon.

Traps in place we headed to bed in hopes of a good night's sleep. Sliding off into slumber, I dreamed of Sasquatch sticking its nose through the hole, snarling, "That trap makes me ANGRY."

Awakening to a "SNAP," I ran to see our catch. I stared slack-jawed at an empty trap drawn against the hole. My wife's oldest slept that night with a claw hammer in his right hand and fishing net in the other.

Three days passed without any noise or animal caught. Becoming frustrated, I checked the under-stairs storage for signs of life. After pulling out the initial load of winter coats and decoration-filled totes, I saw poop, something from a sizable sphincter. The interloper was around the corner where no light shone.

Abby was brought in to finish the hunt but refused to partake. My wife, growing more agitated with each day that passed, told me to "get in there and get the job done." Abby now seemed the only one with good sense, so I joined my furry friend's stance of refusal. And the spousal bickering began.

My wife's 13-year-old daughter, the victim of two consecutive nights of sleepovers, was not amused by the squabbling, and hollered, "I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!" I calmly explained to her to "BUTT OUT."

Not backing down, my farmer-daughter wife's daughter marched downstairs, announcing, "FOR GOODNESS SAKE, IT WON'T BITE YOU IF YOU DON'T STEP ON IT!" Continuing, she sauntered into the abyss of the storage area where two adults and a Labradoodle would not go.

Fueled by an internal combustion known only to teens, the blonde bomb ticked around the corner with plumes of dust, bags and totes thrown over her shoulder - until pink feet and tail became visible. We had a rat, most notably, a freshly dead rat.

Our heroine shrieked and ran into her mother's arms. Being assured it was dead, she declared, "I deserve take-out." Agreed. After all, it's distress in a family's life that helps parents to know their children and how to reward a young lady for a job well done.

How did the rat meet its end?

My father speculates that its fondness for chewing got him electrocuted. My wife believes that, having tried the poison, he expired soon after. As for me, I believe the poor thing suffered heart failure at facing a sleep-deprived teen.

- Doug Clough

Doug Clough writes a column for the Ida County Courier in Ida Grove, Iowa, called "From our backyard…" His work has appeared in Farm News, The Iowan and Boating World, and he served as a travel scout for Midwest Living. "I am a father of a salad bowl family (aka 'blended'), a customer service manager, the possession of my Labradoodle and - in a former life - an English teacher. Someone has to enjoy that mix; it may as well be me," he says.