02 04 00

twice shy

Aurora died this morning.

I woke at about 6am and went to the bathroom. When I came back into the bedroom, Aurora was awake and peeking out of her cage at me. I mumbled "Morning, Aurora," or something and crawled back into bed.

When I woke again at 10am, she was stretched out on the floor of the cage in a very unnatural pose. I opened the cage and gingerly stroked her head. (I was still a little shy with her, considering the bite she gave me.) As soon as I touched her, I knew she was gone.

I got my first rat, Frisby, in 1995 when I moved into my first apartment. I was terribly lonely, and a small animal seemed like just the thing to cheer up my dungeon. Frisby was a mismarked* black hooded rat with a wonderful personality. She loved sitting on my shoulder, and she liked to ride on the dashboard of my old Tercel. She would lean into the turns, scamper back to me, then lean into the next turn.

*Mismarked means that the rat is not suitable for show, except as a pet.

Even my mother liked Frisby. I took Frisby to the vet once to get her some antibiotics for the respiratory infection domestic rats are prone to. The nurses loved her, and stuffed her with microwave popcorn. She sat on my shoulder and churred. In fact, the only people who didn't like Frisby were people who weren't going to like rats no matter what.

When I moved into a new apartment in 1996, I got a second rat. She was a mismarked beige hooded rat, and I named her Araby. (This was a little play on words... Most people heard "Frisbee" when I said "Frisby," and I got a lot of "Frisbee toss" jokes about the rat. So "Araby" is a play on "Aerobie.") She was a little less cuddly than Frisby, but was still full of spark and vigor. I remember walking around with Frisby on one shoulder and Araby on the other, and they would frisk and play under my hair. grin

One time, I had them both on my shoulders and I was driving someplace. I stopped at a stoplight, turned my head, and saw the lady in the next car looking at me in horror. She elbowed her husband, never taking her eyes off me and my rodents. Her husband looked over, rolled his eyes, and said something to his wife. They were still discussing things when the light turned green and I pulled away.

Another year, another apartment. This time I got two rats, rescued from the "feeder" bin at the pet store. These two were bred for meat, not personality, and they were both a little rambunctious. Nod was a mismarked black self rat. (Her feet were white when they should have been black.) She was a little escape artist, so she picked up the nickname Houdini. She was sweet as feeder rats go, although a little squeakier than your average rat. Her fur was so long around her butt I kept picking her up and checking to make sure she was a female.

The other feeder rat I got was Aurora. She was a mismarked black bareback rat, and had two little black spots in her armpits. She was squirmy and feisty and a real troublemaker, but I loved her.

Then they started dying.

Frisby died first, mostly from old age. She was more than three years old, and caught pneumonia. She died while I held her.

Araby died next, several months later. She caught a bad respiratory infection.

Nod was the next to go. She was too young, but the cold she caught turned into pneumonia.

And now Aurora is gone. Respiratory infection.

She's still in her cage, because I don't know what to do with her body. The ground is frozen solid, so I can't bury her, and I refuse to just toss her in the trash. My mother suggested bagging her and putting her in the freezer. It's a good suggestion - it'll be like a morgue. I have an ice bin I never use which hangs from the roof of the freezer. She can go in there.

There are so many dark "rat in the freezer" jokes I can make right now. But I can't.

The people at work were generally sympathetic, except for one driver who could not believe that I would keep rats as pets. Even while I was blinking back tears, he insisted on the "Eww," and "That's disgusting," and "You're one sick puppy, sister" comments. Fuck you, man. I loved her.

When the cage is empty and clean, it'll go into a closet. For now. I can't deal with the thought of more rats right now. They are like little falling stars; their stay with us is so brief.

I'll try to forget the sneezing. I'll try to forget the bloody noses and body-wracking coughs. I'll try to forget the late nights, hand feeding them baby food laced with antibiotics. I'll try to forget the seizures. I'll try to forget the dead, dulled eyes that were once clear and bright.

I'll remember... The radar dish ears twitching every which way. The curley-que tails that wrapped around my fingers. The grasping little hands that stole treats from my fingers. The tickling whiskers that brushed up against my face. The churr churr churr purr they made when I scratched them just there.

Good night, my girls. I'll miss you.

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