I wasn't physically there when my dad picked up my Rosie (white rat in current avatar) for me, but he called me when he was at the petco. There were only albinos (which my mom didn't like at the time, because they are "more like a rat" in looks), just two of them in the small tank. My dad said that a worker said that the albinos were meant to be feeders, weren't tamed and more prone to sickness. I don't know what was up with it, but I knew I just had to "rescue" one. My dad got the one who wasn't running on the wheel, and when he brought her home she was soo small, just about 4 weeks old. Nowadays, she will be held by anyone, but if there is a choice to go to me or someone else she will always snuggle into my arm.
The heart rat that I recently lost - Baby - was the first rat to come up to me at the shelter. They were all from a hording situation and many of the rats were bitey, or just despondent. I'll never forget Baby trying to get my attention through the glass. She used to melt in my hand when I petted her.
Cinnamon has always been my little boy. I've had him since he was only a few months old. We've always kind of had this special bond. Whenever I call him, he comes and he only takes treats from me. When he was really little, he wouldn't eat except underneath something. Now, he trust me and eats right on top of my hand. I probably spend 2-3 hours playing with him a day. He really is my little baby. We will always have this special bond. He trusts me no matter what.
I typed this up a while ago, when I thought I wanted to be a writer. Settled for being a vet instead.
Hes the rat in the profile picture
I still remember that night in February. My guinea pig passed away that morning from old age, and I was devastated. The sun fell beneath the Sierra Nevada Mountains and abandoned the valley in a cold torrent of snow and wind. My family was eating dinner at the table, watching our favorite show at the time, Lost. The doorbell rang and I checked to see who it was. My friend and neighbor, James, was clutching a shoebox. “Um, the snake we were watching wasn’t interested in eating this baby rat, do you want it? The snake wouldn’t eat its brother either, my dad killed that one. I didn’t want him to kill this one too.” James stuttered, probably from the cold. I took the box and felt a small animal panic. I looked inside and found a beautiful Siamese rat that looked just a few weeks old. I didn’t know much about rats; I only ever had hamsters and guinea pigs. I was hesitant, the James said: “They killed the other one by hitting it with a bat, I couldn’t stop it, but I can save this one. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him back to the pet store tomorrow.” I took the rat from him, but said: “I’ll think about it- maybe.” I returned to the dinner table, where I showed my parents. My mom did not like the idea of having a rat in the house, but allowed it because of my loss that morning. My dad did not mind rats, as he had them when he was a child, but did not like the idea of having another pet. He did not want me to be sad when it died, but allowed me to keep him. I had no large cages to put him in, so I put him in an old hamster cage for the night. The rat did not allow me to touch him. “I don’t even know if I’ll keep it” I told them. Later that night, after my shower, I took his cage into my room and set it on the floor. Although, I couldn’t sleep because the rat was making noises and trying to get out of its cage. He was probably traumatized: put directly in front of the mouth of a serpent, saw his brother die in an awful way, stuffed in a box and given to a stranger. The rat was probably expecting to be killed. I got out of my bed to comfort him. I stuck my hand in the cage, too my surprise, the rat jumped on my hand, ran up my arm, and rubbed his head against my ribcage. I put the rat in the large pocket on the front of my pajamas, got back in bed, and slept with my new friend. That morning, when I got up, my rat was still sleeping in my pajama pocket. I walked into the kitchen and showed my parents the rattie in my pocket. “ I’m keeping him” I said. “Okay, don’t get too attached, he’s just a rat.” My dad said When the doorbell rang that morning, I opened the door to find James. “Well?” He asked. “I’m keeping him.” I answered “ What did you name him?” “Algernon”
Too this day, Algernon is my best friend in the whole world. He is protective of me (attacked a guy for calling me a b) waits for me on my bike seat when I go to work, and rides with me on my shoulder while I ride my bike. I wouldn't trade him for the world. I love him more than the world knows. My hometown has even grown to love him. He is allowed in all of the stores. My bike has a special parking spot at Jack in the Box so that he can see in the window when I go to get us lunch. Algernon will always have a special place in my heart.