lifewithrats

I met my first pet rat when I was fifteen. Since then, I’ve raised seventeen of the little creatures. Mysty was my first, and she was an adventurous doll. She once saved me from a big, bad bug. At least, she was certain she had saved me. She pranced around the room so proudly afterwards.

After Mysty passed, I bought Isha and Ru. I was in a strange name phase. Ru was sickly from the beginning, and I have bittersweet memories of feeding her soft foods and cuddling all night while I tried to keep her alive. Her litter-mate Isha was the first rat I trained. I taught her the names of the household, and she would run to whomever I named. I loved watching her “Run to Grandma,” when my mom walked in the room.

Latte was a rescue, who apparently had been turned down by the snake she was supposed to feed. She was tiny, and died early of either an infection, or, more likely, starvation. I think she was too young to be off milk, but I only realize that now, years later.

Zorra was also rescue. She was supposed to be an older rat, but I found out at the vet that she was quite young (though not as young as Latte had been). She helped me decide to go out on a second date with my now-husband, because my formerly shy rat took right to him. She transitioned with me to my first real apartment.

Tam was a retired breeder. We bought her to keep Zorra company. Tam had given birth to something like twelve or fourteen babies. She was a nester. She often built up a nest of newspaper so large that it toppled over the castle she built it in.

Those were the first six. I’ll introduce some more of the brood tomorrow. Look forward to hearing about the rats that my husband and I were closest to, who will always be shining stars in the growing constellation of rats we’ve raised.

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