A long time ago I wrote a post about three of our girls and how they came to our home, their forever home. One of the girls, Cat the Rat is still with us (her sisters passed over to the Rainbow Bridge) and enjoying her life with the latest girls we rescued, er, I mean saved … Molly, Mandy, Mindy, and Mel.
Those girls came to us, as their other option was … no life. A good friend of the family contacted us to ask if we would be able to take any of these wonderful creatures into our home and after we heard the alternative the obvious answer was yes. We had room, we always have room in times of need; and, so the four came to live with us.
But, that is not what I started to write this post about … actually I wanted to say that we have gained the respect of the staff at our vet’s office to have them think of us when they learn of pet rats in need. They called just a few days ago asking if we could take in some pet rats as the current owner was at their wit’s end and may feel forced to release them into a field. Again, it was simply, “Yes, we’ll take them.” Then it was, “oh, by the way, how many; and, what sex?”
Fortunately the rats found a new home with a “family friend” and hopefully it will be their forever home. Otherwise, we are still here … in times of need.
We still do not think of ourselves as a rescue … or are we?
I had just gotten back from doing laundry this morning and took a moment to look in on Peeka, Cat, and the four white girls that now live with them. I noticed Peeka laying on her side at the bottom of their home and thought it odd since she normally sleeps on the shelves near the top. I looked closer.
Peeka was not moving, nor was she asleep. Sometime while I was at the laundromat little Peeka rat passed on to the Rainbow Bridge. There was no warning, there were no early signs.
Although I am not a veterinarian, I gave her as thorough a physical exam as I could think of. She had no porphyrin whatsoever; there were no open wounds or apparent broken bones; and, there were no lumps, bumps, or anything else to indicate an obvious tumor. She was, except for her obvious condition, the picture of health. It will remain a mystery …
Roo, our rasta-kitty has taken to being very needy of late. This seems to coincide with his recent hair, er, I mean fur cut.
In a previous post I described how Mrs.R and myself helped Roo with his horrid mass of matted fur on his back by shaving nearly 3/4 of his back. Now, our shy skittish Roo is an insatiable scritch-aholic, taking turns going from Mrs.R to myself demanding in a most serious meow to have his back scratched.
… and every time I think we have created a monster, a Roo-monster! I also think how great it is to see Roo be this sociable, too.
Our Roo, or Rasta-Roo of late, after one hour and forty-five minutes is now a smooth backed cat. After some protests and a few sad meows he seems to be feeling much better for the experience.
Still to this day, after almost four years now, we cannot figure out why Roo grows his fur out in dreads. To the best of our knowledge he has not taken to the Rastafarian religion, and so we have to from time to time help him clean up his back. Usually we go through this once or twice a year. Today it took one hour and forty-five minutes, to go from three-quarter covered in dreads to one-quarter inch clean shaved with both Mrs.R and I and an electric clipper each to finally get Roo’s fur cut; and, then evenly smoothed.
Roo is hiding somewhere now, not exactly sure where, but he is looking good. I hope he will forgive us in time to show off his new style for family Christmas.