After the moment it took my brain to believe what my eyes were telling it, I ran into the loungeroom to yell to B,
"A mouse, a mouse!! A MOUSE is in our kitchen, QUICK!!"
You see, before now, I couldn't quite tell the difference. Plus I was in shock, okay? Hmpf.
I rushed back in, with B hot on my heels... the rat saw me and sprung towards the open window, falling into the sink on the way and collapsing a few dishes. It then panicked and made a leap for the windowsill, knocking a candle to the floor before scurrying out.
As I lunged over to shut the window, B laughed at me for calling it a mouse.
"Honey, that's a RAT," he said. "A mouse would be so small, you'd barely see it."
Whatever buddy, it was brown and hairy, okay?
Thanks for the nightmares, rat.
p.s. We have a miniature schnauzer, who were bred to hunt for rats. That's why they have long beards. Otto, the schnauzer, didn't do a darn thing. Way to go, Otty.