Who's Training Who?

My apartment has one minor design issue--there is a small opening in the side of one of the built in cabinets where a sufficiently agile and tiny creature could enter the food storage area easily and stealthily.

As the astute readers of my blog may divine, a rat is both sufficiently agile and adequately small to accomplish this.

Now, I have put a wooden block in the opening, but it is difficult to affix in any non-temporary manner and rats are intelligent enough to figure out how to wedge the block out. When the block falls to the ground, however, it makes a distinct thudding sound that I can easily hear, and I can go and claim the rodent before he does any actual damage.

The problem is that I feel sorry for taking the little guy away from the treasure trove he has unearthed--how would Indiana Jones feel if some guy grapped him by the scruff of the neck after he dodges the boulder trap--and so I pet him and often give him a treat.

This has resulted in Spartacus knocking over the block and then turning around and looking at me expectantly.

I think I am the one who got trained.