Basil - 9/09 - 12/11

I've been holding off on writing this memorial for Basil.  I have been expecting his death for several months, so it was hardly a surprise.  It still doesn't feel real, though, especially not on the heels of Socrates.  After several months of brave struggle against his failing heart, Basil finally passed quietly on Christmas day. 

Basil came to me as an 8-week-old baby, one of 16 little ones born to an escapee at Petco who had gone feral.  The babies were hand-raised and fostered on a surrogate mom.  He and his tilty brother Wesley were my first "official" rescues. 

Basil was a rat's rat.  He put up with people.  Sometimes, if you caught him in the right mood, he would let you roll him onto his back and tickle his belly and kiss the minky spot on his tummy.  But most of the time he just weathered human attention with quiet dignity so he could get back to tending to his rats. 

He was a natural-born alpha.  He gently tended to Token in his final hours.  He taught the hoarding boys how to behave like real rats.  He kept Einstein in his place. He was the glue that held the colony together and while he was tough, he was also fair.  He saw the death of so many of his friends:  Ripper, Sweeney, Token, Splinter, Locke, Stock, Beryl, Wesley, Socrates.  In the end, he was very tired, and I think very ready to see his friends again. 

So long, big guy.  I miss you a lot, and the colony isn't the same without you.

Merry Christmas from the Ratmates

I had a photo-shoot today with the rats.  I was sad that Socrates wasn't there...but happy that both Basil and Einstein have survived well into their old age to enjoy.  

The new guys are settling in nicely :)

I'm going to have to get better at making backdrops.  On the bright side, tinsel is bright and shiny. 

Basil is so handsome and tired.  He's very sad after Socrates passed away, but I think he'll be alright.  He's lost a lot of friends over the years.

Ban is adorable.  

Merry Christmas and all, and to all a good night.

Socrates - September 2010 to December 2011

A baby Socrates tells his brother Amadeus a secret

Sometimes, a rat's death is a long process.  They get sick, their health declines, you nurse them, and finally it's time to say goodbye.  Other times, though, it comes from nowhere.  One minute you have a happy, healthy rat.  The next, you find him cold and lifeless at the bottom of his cage.

That doesn't happen very often, but when it does it's always devastating.

Two days ago, I noticed something "off" about Socrates, but I couldn't put my finger on it.  He didn't come out to say hello when I gave everyone their dinner.  He was sleeping soundly in his favorite hammock, so I woke him up.  He acted groggy, but seemed healthy.  No bumps, no weight loss, no swelling, no respiratory sounds.  He seemed totally fine, just sleepy.

So, figuring I'd woken him from a very sound nap, I put him back in the cage.  The next morning, I checked in and he was snoozing soundly so I left him to sleep.  A few hours later, I found him dead in the bottom of the cage.

I have no idea what happened.  He's in the freezer now, and I'm debating if I want to have a necropsy done, or just let it go.

Socrates came to me with his brothers Amadeus and Normoth in September of last year.  He was supposedly 8 weeks old, but they seemed closer to 5 weeks.  His two sisters, Beatrix and Eiko, live with my rat-rescue friend Callie.

The "babies" have always been a little spastic, and Socrates was definitely a spazz.  His greatest passion in life was climbing and exploring.  I got very few photos of him because he was always on the move.  You'd set him down for a moment, and then BAM! he was on the windowsill, on top of the cage, in the closet.  Always everywhere but where he was supposed to be.

Socrates got along with everyone, but he was best friends with no one.  He was too independent for that.  He tolerated human affection, but he really wanted to be out exploring.  He snuggled in hammocks, but during out time he had eyes only for adventure.  He was his own rat, and he lived every second in complete control of himself.

His cage buddies, Amadeus and Basil, really miss him.  Hell, I really miss him, too.  I just wish I'd gotten to know him better.

Play hard, my little enigma.  I hope you've got all the buildings in the world to climb wherever you are now.