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Obituaries
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Reba
Reba was a silver fawn hooded doe. She was my first ever rat, given to me by my friend Iggy. She was tiny when I got her, but very friendly. She was very docile; even my toddlers could hold her. I had a roleplaying group that met up at my flat on a regular basis, and Reba was always allowed free to roam on the table during sessions. She loved to steal brightly-coloured dice, and was spoiled rotten by my guests. Despite all the treats of bits of pizza and slurps of coffee from everyone's mugs, she never got fat.
When she was a year old, I got Brock to keep her company. She was too old for a litter, but she and Brock became great partners in crime. She lost half her tail in an accident aged 6 months, and never grew much bigger than a 16 week old kitten - but she was the dominant one of the pair.
Unfortunately,Reba never was the healthiest of rats; myco was a recurring problem, as were mites, despite regular bathing (which she loved). She had a bad bout of pleurisy one winter that I nursed her through, but then at the age of 18 months she developed a series of mamary tumours that, because of the lung scarring from pleurisy, the vet deemed inoperable. When the tumours started rupturing, I knew that poor Reba had had enough; and sadly I took the decision to have her PTS. The vet allowed me to hold her; and she passed away peacefully in my hands at the age of 19 months.
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Brock
Brock was an impulse buy from a pet shop about a year after I got Reba. He was a very bold inquisitive rat right from the first. He was no baby when I bought him; he was about 3 months old, maybe older, which is why I got him cheap from the pet shop - they didn't think they could sell an adult rat and were desperate to get rid of him. He started out being carried in a pet carrier - and half-way home decided he'd rather be on my shoulder! So he chewed his way out and raced up my coat and sat there, looking perfectly at home.
Brock was a shoulder rat right from the start. He always insisted on coming with me to see the kids home from school, and became very popular amongst children and adults alike at the school. He was one of those placid friendly rats that make such good ambassadors for rats, and I was often asked to bring him into school to talk about rats and pets to the children.
Brock was also popular with my weekly roleplayers, especially my ex husband, Sava. But the light of Brock's life was always Reba; and when she had to be PTS, he was devastated. He would sit in the empty space where her cage used to be for hours, moping. The introduction of other rats perked him up a little, but it took him a long time to get over the loss of Reba.
Brock soon proved himself an excellent stud, and went on to father quite a few litters before circumstances forced me to curtail my breeding of rats. He was no show rat himself, being a mismarked baldy - but his offspring did well. He sired Astra, my little variagated doe who took 1st place in the variagated class in her first show at the age of 9 weeks.
Brock finally died in December 1999, at the grand old age of five and a half. He was a real character; and of all my rats save Reba I miss him the most.
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Rowan
Rowan was my "heartbreaker" rat. She was a cinnamon pearl doe that I got from Tony Jones at a big rat show in Luton - my first ever show. I was new and inexperienced in showing, and so I never realised that I should have gotten a pedigree certificate from Tony for her. She seemed to be a sweet-natured little thing, quite content to ride on my arm or my shoulder during the show.
But when we got home, there were signs of trouble. She didn't take to Reba at all, so had to have her own cage. She was a bit snappy with my friends, but I could handle her fine. I decided to try mating her with Brock when she was 3 months old.
And that's when she turned psychotic.
It wasn't the usual aggression of a mother who's just given birth; she would actively seek out people to attack. Even I wasn't immune; I still bear the scars of one of her attacks to this day.
I was at my wits' end; I phoned Tina Gruber, my area co-ordinator for the NFRS for advice. And then I found out that what I was experiencing with Rowan wasn't unique. All the rats from that blood line were turning psychotic at some point between the ages of 3 months and a year. Rowan was the result of bad breeding, and she would never get any better. Worse still, most of her litter would probably go the same. Rowan and her babies would have to be PTS.
It was a heartbreaking decision. The babies were by now six weeks old and had been separated; 18 babies in all. Some showed real promise; the little variagated doe, the little berkshire girl twins, the two beautiful pearl brothers. I decided to take a gamble. Astra, the variagated doe; Gem and Mina, the agouti berkshires; Adan and Adarc, the pearl brothers. These I would keep. The rest had to go. Tina didn't think I ought to keep the boys, but Sava pleaded with me to spare them. Maybe they would take after their father, Brock? So Adan and Adarc were spared. All the rest, and mother Rowan, went to Tina, who had a euthanasia set-up.
Rowan was a young rat, who was dearly loved but just too unhappy. Later I found that there were many other unhappy owners who had faced the same choice as I had. That bloodline caused a lot of heartache.
Lucky: There was one piece of good luck that arose as a result though - one of the babies had escaped unnoticed whilst Rowan and her babies were being rounded up. Lucky, a black berkshire doe, was found three days later by my eldest daughter, Dani. Lucky became Dani's first pet rat, and lived to a good old age of 3 years. She was always a friendly rat, right up to her last breath.
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Cara
Cara, a mink-capped doe, was dumped at my vets' with her brother at the age of 1 year. They both had severe myco and a terrible mite infestation; Cara's brother was so bad he had to be PTS, but Cara responded well to treatment. I was taking Reba for regular treatment, and when I saw the little poster in reception about a rat needing a home, I said I'd have a look at her.
Needless to say, Cara came home with me once she'd finished her treatment.
She was a sweet tempered little thing; he coat was always a bit on the thin side, but otherwise she seemed to show no ill-effects from her previous owner's mistreatment. She got on well with Reba, and like Brock, was quite distressed when Reba died. She was also a good surrogate "mum" to Rowan's babies.
Unfortunately, she suffered a reoccurrance of myco one Easter, when she was two. She went downhill very rapidly; she was sniffling and sneezing on easter Sunday evening, and died in my hands on Easter Monday morning. I like to think her final year with me made up in some part for her bad start in life.
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