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A MEMORIAL TO PAST LOVED RATTIES
In Memory of Missy... March 10, 1998 * February 28, 2001
An Ode to Missy.
Rattus norwiegicus is your taxonomic nomenclature.
An endothermic quadraped, seminocturnal by nature.
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your recreational skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your dental bruxations
A singular development of rattal communications.
This obviates your basic sedentary quiescention
For this is how you demonstrate affection.
Tree embryos & yogurt are quite essential for your viscerence.
You would not be so motile if you lack their succulence.
And when not curled up being nocturnal in your quarters,
Captive vegetation falls and insulators become martyrs.
O Missy, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Missy, and do not comprehend,
I none the less consider you a true and valued friend.
2 of 4, auxillary processor to Unimatrix 347, suffered a cascade failure of her interplexing beacon in July 2000.
She was the cybernetically-enhanced, pet store rescue rat that friend Phillip bought for me in the summer of 1998. She lived in a stinky, tiny cage with a bunch of others
and was likely seperated from her mother too soon as well. Without the full six weeks plus of weaning and lots of handling, rats tend to do quite poorly in their later years.
Although most pet stores will deny it, I have no doubt at all that she would have ended up in the stomach of some big ugly snake had we not intervened.
2 of 4 was virtually "wild" when I got her, and I have plenty of bite wounds to show for it. It took well over a year before I could even reach in to pick her up
without being rewarded with a set of sharp little rat teeth clamped down on my fingers, but eventually, she would even take food from my hand. Hardly the snippy little thing
she was when I first got her.
In her later life, she did mellow out quite a bit, and would come up seeking garbage food or a pat on the head with all the others. She was very independent, and I saw that right off the start, so I gave her
a name inspired from my favorite TV show, Star Trek. She was the little Borg that got seperated from her collective. Well, now she can rejoin her unimatrix somewhere beyond
that good ol Rainbow Bridge and get the proper socialisation and weaning she so much deserved in her young life.
Saraswati, the smart little schoolgirl ratlet died of unknown causes in July 2000.
This little girl spent the first five months of her life on the University of Washington campus, and graduated Magnum Cum Ratte with a degree in eating, sleeping, and peeing.
Actually, this cute little girl was part of a classroom experiment, in which she was supposed to learn the difference between a smooth floor and a rough one, but somebody
sabotaged the feeding program and botched the experiment. Best friend Phillip rescued her after the class was done for the semester, and the rest is history.
Sara was a pretty smart little rat, but she too started out a little socially inept - but that didn't last long. She soon came up for garbage food and ran around the house with Missy,
but she never got much pleasure out of knocking over the garbage like Missy does. Sara's thing was knocking over houseplants and discovering new and unusual
places to tinkle. Yup, pee-pee was her bag, and she was good at it.
But she seemed to know where she could get away with it and where she could not - she never peed inside the couch or on people. She would always do it in a houseplant
or behind seldom-moved furniture. And she always did #2 inside the cage.
Around middle age, she really warmed up to being around people, and was an eager little girl whenever I had a visitor or when I took one of the other rats out to play.
Sara pretty much followed Missy, even when she was introduced into strange new settings, like being set down in the middle of a large collection of glass telegraph insulators.
Didn't bother her a bit - plus she found a nifty new hiding spot she would always go to when she wanted to clean herself or if I shoved a treat in her mouth.
Zip! Quick as a whip, she would scamper across the couch, up over the insulators, and down inside her secret little place to gobble down her treat.
I'm only sorry I couldn't afford the "good" rat treats - yoghurt drops - any more than a couple of times a year. She would have eaten them by the box if I had them.
I hope she gets a lot of them on the other end of the Rainbow Bridge to help make up for my shortcomings.
Sara, you smart little rat you, I'll miss you and so will Phillip.
Be good, honey!
Goodbye, Molly.
I raised you as a newborn. You delighted in ruining houseplants, tipping over the garbage, and trying
to act like a dog by drinking out of the toilet bowl!
You hated water bottles - you liked your dishes better. Bailey's Irish Creme is one thing you REALLY
ejoyed, even though I couldn't give you more than a splash in the bottle cap. I remember when you
knocked over the empty bottle and dragged it all the way to the other side of the room, hoping a few
precious drops would spill out for you to greedily vacuum up.
And you were the only rat I ever met who could get toilet paper tubes all by themselves - by first
unrolling the entire roll out of the dispenser and running off with that first. Then you'd cut down the
tube from the dispenser and run off to chew that up too!
My poor Molly, we lost you on the operating table during your cancer surgery. At least I'm comfortable
in knowing that you died quietly, in your sleep.
And then there's Big "Biggy" Boy.
You came to me at the tender age of five weeks, and left me two years later.
You sure were a funny looking thing; your ears mounted on the sides of your head and all. But then
again, you were a Dumbo Ear rat. You delighted in sleeping all day and partying all night.
I'd always hear something rattling or being chewed on after the lights went out for the night.
And whenever you were let out, you'd always find some new and interesting place to pee or drop
a few stools. But that's OK, my carpeting's shot anyway. So who cares. :)
I'll miss you, the BIGGEST rat I've ever laid eyes on or had in my lap.
And you, Rat.
I remember you all so well, the big rescue rat I saved from life in a 3.5 gallon hamster tank.
Poor thing, you couldn't hardly even turn around in the thing. The people who had you before
probably got you for their kid, and when you were not a "cute little kitten" anymore, they just
left you in the cage; only opening it once or twice a day to throw in some food.
The best thing THEY ever did for you is name you "Rat".
That all changed when you moved into my home back in 93 or 94. You were jumpy, skittish and snippy,
but that so quickly changed and within just a week, you became one of the most gentle creatures
God could have ever created. I regret that I only had you for less than two years, before you got sick
and had to be given your ticket across the Rainbow Bridge.
For all those nights I'd wake up at 3 in the morning, and find you curled into a little ball between my ankles,
for all the shoes you chewed up, and for all the little games of "get the rat tail" and "what's that under
the blanket" and for all those interesting trips outdoor, I'll always remember you.
Anybody who's ever met you will remember you too, you gentle kind thing you!
Then there's my adorable, ever-pregnant Squeaky.
You first got impregnated by Rat, right through the bars of his cage! I never did figure out
how you two pulled THAT one off!
I always managed to find homes for your children, and from your final litter, Molly was born.
Your little games of hide & eat on the counter amused both Rat and myself.
I'll also remember you as being such a great momma. You took care of those babies, and were so gentle
you'd let me in their midst only a day after your childbirth. You probably passed on your "knock over
the houseplant!" gene to Molly; for she followed in your footsteps long after you were gone.
Your end came far too soon, at the hands of ruthless gang members who burglarized my former
apartment and killed every living creature in it before they left.
I can only hope that the end of your corporeal existance was swift and painless.
You're in a much better place now, I assure you.
RAT MEMORIALS BY PET RAT LOVERS
From Holly:
"I called her Specky, she was a beautiful rat and she lived for 2 years, sadly i found she had died one day when i came home
from school. Please would you put up a little speech kind of thing with her picture on your memorial page as i would very much
appreciate it."
Holly,
I'm very sorry to hear of Specky's passage across the Rainbow Bridge.
She was a beautiful girl, and reminds me a lot of my beloved Missy.
May Specky always have yogurt drops, and some friends to play with, forever and ever.
Slightly Off Center
Rat Dreams
Dennis Hinkamp
The difference between a pet and pest and a weed and a wonder exists
only in our own feeble attempt at being gods. We say that dandelions and rats
should be poisoned because....well, just because we prefer manicured Kentucky
bluegrass and too-eager-to please Labradors.
Thinking about this too hard could give you brain trauma or you could
fall back on the most frequent explanation — “that’s just the way it is.”
My pet rat, Ratly, and I coped with the screaming inconsistencies of
life by sharing mind-numbing activities such as watching Melrose Place, Jazz
basketball and drinking banana maragaritas. I know that all three are probably
carcinogens and lower our IQ incrementally with each session, but these are our
drugs of choice.
Towards the end of his accelerated life span, Ratly and I developed
that
telepathic bond that only pets and their owners have. Pets can talk to you, you
just have to recalibrate your sense of hearing and let go of that human
superiority hang-up that clouds your judgement. Had rats developed better
thumbs early on, the world might look very different
In his last rat days, Ratly conferred on me wisdom and forgiveness that
one only exhibits towards the end of life. He was an octogenarian in rat years
but still retained his sharp wit though he was nearly blind and only
semi-mobile.
“Hey, why does everyone refere to us as ‘lab’ rats. Nobody would let
scienctists get away with using lab Pandas. I mean giving your life for a cure
for cancer or AIDS is one thing, but the perfect eye liner or studies on how to
get through a maze? Some of you humans have got to get a grip,” he told me.
“And the racial slurs. Dirty rat, rat fink, rat’s nest, rat hole...Hey,
have any of you actually tried living outside without the aid of vacuum
cleaners and massaging shower heads? We’re pretty clean, in fact. Sorry you
don’t like the hairless tail, but get over it. Ever look at yourselves in the
mirror in the morning before you get all dressed up and groomed? I think you
get my point.”
He eventually forgave all the atrocities science geeks had performed on
his kind. He explained that the Black Plague was really a bum rap on rats.
“Rats didn’t spread the plague, it was fleas. We were just looking for food
like everyone else.”
“And while I’ve got your attention, what’s up with Micky Mouse? You
humans go all cutesy gooey over him and what is he?.. a mouse? He’s just like a
rat only smaller and dumber, and you build a whole theme park around him. You
humans are so simple.”
“And dogs, don’t get me started on dogs. They have you trained to
follow
them around and put their poop in little plastic bags. And I hate cats.
Besides the fact that they like to just kill us for fun, what’s up with this
little patch of beach you have to give them for a bathroom? They don’t even
like water. Why do they get a beach? Just give me some old newspapers and a
handful of grain, an occasional rat-sized margarita and I’m set.”
“Are you listening to me? I’m really old and tired. Don’t make me come
over there and step on that remote control. I may not have very big thumbs, but
can work that remote with my tail tied behind my back. The Jazz aren’t going to
win the playoffs anyway and I’m sure there are some reruns of Melrose Place in
that dumb mind-sucking box somewhere.”
Little Jeff "My little man who loved his seeds"
2003- July 22, 2005
R.I.P
Little Jeff was rescued from the ASPCA after supposedly being brought in for being rejected as snake feed. He was about a year old when I got him. He lived a good life even though he couldn't have a cage mate because of his aggression towards other rats. I discovered him in his cage having a seizure so I took him out and held him.. he passed soon after.
