this post was submitted on 25 Jul 2023
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Cute!
To some this is an advantage, if you are not ready to commit to 15-20 years for a dog or cat.
Rats carry all the personality of dogs and cats. In theory, you get a pet that you'll enjoy for 2-3 years. In practice, you'll be devastated after your intelligent best friends start dying one by one. Most people cope by buying rats constantly.
Yeah, we're in a position now where we've got the last of our five ratty boys living on his own as a cranky old bachelor because we don't want to get any more, but he's too old to rehome. I do feel bad that he's in there on his own, but I keep him topped up with Cheerios and bits of cucumber, and he seems happy enough.
But yeah, all four of the lost rats so far have made me cry like a baby. Number four, Feegle, had to be put to sleep a few months ago, and the nurse at the vet asked if I wanted to wait in a private room for my appointment because I was dribbling and snorting while Feegle was looking up at me from inside my hoody.
I can't keep doing that to myself, so Mr Wilbur is spending his twilight months in peaceful solitude.
You just made me cry.
Having pet rats has been a marvelous and horrendous experience. They are so affectionate, but most of the time, they die in horrible ways—tumors, heart diseases... It's heart-wrenching to see someone you love suffocating in your hands and feeling helpless, rushing to the vet, having to "make the right decision" while the poor thing licks your hand, not understanding what's going on. Then you feel like shit, consumed by guilt both for making the decision and not making it fast enough at the same time. It really is unbearable, and yet I'm overwhelmed by nostalgia each time I see a picture of them.
Yes, all of this.
The absolute worst for me was our beautiful Templeton. He was Wilbur's brother. We introduced them to Nac, Mac, and Feegle the way you're supposed to and everything went perfectly. Until it didn't.
We still don't really know what happened, but what was clear was that there was a squabble, someone lashed out, Templeton ended up getting slashed across his balls. Rushed him to the vet, who said that pretty much all they could do was castrate him. So we did that, picked him up the following day and put him in a small carrier on his own to recuperate while we went out to get a small cage for him to live in while he healed.
While we were out, he had apparently been jumping about, trying to figure out how to get out, and he burst his stitches. By the time we got back and realised what had happened it was too late. Things that should have been in were out and we had another rush to the vet. All they could was put him out pain, and my last memory of him was him looking kinda scared at me as he was taken away.
That was almost two years ago, and it still hurts like hell, because it feels like there was so much we could have/should have done differently. The poor little guy was only 6 months old, and was the absolute sweetest boy. He'd run up my arm when I opened the cage, and happily sit on my shoulder eating cheerios. None of the others did that of their own accord.
I still miss that little fella.
Only a few days later, our remaining cat got hit by a car. That week was complete shit.