Tiffany

 

IN.B- This post was written Friday 16th November 2012.

Oh sweetheart,

What can I say about you. How can I tell the story of the last 18 months without you? Because when you think about it that’s all it’s been, but it seems like a lifetime, and it’s honestly a struggle to remember life without you.

I remember the feeling of anxiety over what would happen to you, the nervousness when Rhys finally agreed to let me get you “So we can look for another home” and that taxi drive to Innsworth. Standing outside that military built semi wondering what was going to be inside.

Your last owners were nice, but not very knowledgeable about rats. Your cage was more suitable for a hamster and had a shelf, tube, wheel, food and a water bottle. You’d been left alone for most of the week with the neighbours checking in on you- though you still managed to pull the bag of Supa nuggets into the cage and happily stored them in a corner. You were described as a “huge” rat by the bloke, but you weren’t, verging on the skinny side of normal. How soon that was to change!

You were an impulse buy. Bloke had been going in to get corn snakes, his misses has seen you and 1/2 hour later with a starter kit you were on your way home with them. Acquiring a living, breathing animal is sometimes too easy in this country I think. You left behind your sisters and your mother. You weren’t very friendly said the bloke, and you liked to keep yourself to yourself- though they had a staffie and a baby was born during your time with them so I do wonder how much attention you got. You certainly didn’t get any fresh veggies or any non nugget food. 9 months later they’d move barracks and simply decided they were bored of you and “if she’s not gone by the end of the week I don’t know what I’ll do” So of course, I had to take you.

So we brought you home, tried to furnish your cage a little bit more and tried to make you at home. I don’t think we saw you for the first 3 days. A long running joke between me and your daddy has been related to the song “Breakfast with Tiffany” and trying to get you confident enough to eat out of our hands. Seemed like at every opportunity Rhys would end up singing "And I said what about breakfast with Tiffany? She said Arrrgghhh! and ran in her box!”. Our rat sitters hardly saw you either when we went on holiday for 2 weeks. I had begun to despair at you ever coming out of your shell.

When we returned from holiday we got Rommie from a local rat rescue. We placed you both in your old cage for introductions. Rommie went and raided your food bowl and then hung out in your hammock while you looked at us in disbelief! I think in the end you two did like each other but your social skills were awful. One of my biggest regrets is not getting 2 rats when we got Rommie. I think with 3 the pressure on both of you would be less; Rommie needed you for all of her rattie needs- for grooming and being groomed and for social things. Stuff you were never really interested in, things you didn’t really know *how* to do successfully. But you muddled along.

You both got to know the sound the doorbell made really quickly. Even if it was just the post man it was enough to stir you from your slumber and make you think it was the takeaway delivery. That one is pretty much all your daddy’s fault! I wouldn’t say you were picky either. Popadoms, Pizza, Naaan bread, cheese, chocolate biscuits- pretty much anything Daddy would eat you’d get a slice- all I can say is thank goodness for rats healthy imune systems. That being said you loved sweetcorn and eggs as well and always ate up your nuggets and your muslei.

Given that you and Rommie never really bonded without squabbles I was really surprised at your reaction when she had to be put to sleep. Although you were not worried by the body when we came home you honestly sunk into a depression. We’d get you out and you would sit on the sofa in between me and daddy and just chill; at that point we knew we needed to get you some company. I have to admit I was initially worried when we got the girls; I needn’t have been, The 4 babies gave you the gift of energy and with your dominance firmly established you left them alone apart from snuggles in the rattie pile. Esk quickly established herself as your shadow and started fighting your battles for you! Anyone so much as laid a paw on you then she would go for them and remind them who was boss and second in command.

She’s going to miss you terribly. We all are.

Back when we got the babies you had a myco flare up. The bacteria that are often inert started to make you poorly. A dose of steroid injections and we had a good few months. Then it returned; we treated it with oral antibiotics which didn’t seem to touch it. We went to the vets and you stayed there for a week to be nebulised, which again seemed to solve very little. You came home with after a steroid injection with an inhaler; much to the amusement of everyone. You hated it though, fighting to get out of the box and knock the inhaler out of it’s hole.

That was a week ago yesterday. You’ve lost weight, somehow your jaw is dislocated and because of your breathing problems (non rat people: Think Emphysema) it often seems like a choice between eat and breathe, sleep and breathe. This isn’t the way you’d want to live is it? If you could speak to us you’d tell us what we needed to do. It doesn’t make it any easier does it? We’ll repeat the words “there’s nothing more we could have done” we’ll say it is our final gift to you of a pain free passing, we’ll cry, we’ll get angry and scream and yell and shout and it’ll still never be enough.

And as we do tomorrow what we have to do my heart will shatter into a thousand pieces. Just like it did with Guthrie, Simba, Ludlow and Rommie. Wounds that may scab over but never really heal. We’ll cuddle you one last time, kiss you on the head and wish you fare well, we’ll cry and the vet will tell us again that we’re doing the right thing; and we’ll wish with all our hearts that it doesn’t have to be this way.

And in a week I’ll get the call, and I’ll pick up the small wooden box and I’ll cry a little more. You’ll sit on the shelf with the others. I’ll talk to you from time to time, pick up and stroke your box while I’m dusting.

And think that was one hell of a rat who we’ll miss you forever.

 

RIP pickle. August 2010- Nov 17th 2012.