Oh, Nicky, You Were So Fine
Farewell, Nicky
Nicky the rat passed away today. I don't know how old he was, because he was an adult rat when I got him as a rescue, a little over a year ago, but I'm guessing he was between two and three years old. He had been healthy and lively right up until Thursday, when he seemed lethargic and reluctant to come out of his fleecy tunnel. I took him out and held him, and though he seemed a little sleepy, and a little unsteady on his feet, he chattered happily nestled on my shoulder while I watched TV and worked on the computer. I thought I could detect a slight click in his breathing, and respiratory infections can kill a rat fast, so I started him on antibiotics right away.
But I don't think the problem was respiratory. By Friday he was still unsteady, almost to the point that he seemed partially paralyzed in the hind legs. He could move them, but it was clear he preferred not to, even going so far as to neglect to get up to urinate. On Friday he stopped eating and drinking. I continued to hold him and sing to him and try to coax him with treats, and to give him antibiotics, but I could tell he was worse, not better.
When I went to bed around sometime around 0330 Saturday, he was very lethargic, moving very stiffly, and had a slight odor I've come to associate with impending death in a rat. It's not an unpleasant odor, not decay, but it's distinctive - perhaps ketoacidosis from not eating? - and I knew it was looking bad. I held him and stroked him, and told him how much I wanted him to stay, how much I loved him, but that if it was his time to go, I would understand.
When I got up this morning, I found him cold and stiff, but curled up on his side with his eyes closed: it appears that he simply went to sleep and didn't wake up, a mercy I am grateful for.
A part of me is terribly afraid I killed him. I recently put out ant baits in the bathroom, not realizing the rats would find it attractive. But while another rat, Survivor, was out roaming, he stole an ant trap and stashed it under the bed. He didn't eat it at all, just stashed it. I retrieved the bait and made sure he couldn't get at it again. But one trap went missing. I thought Julissa, who cleans for me, had thrown it away, because it disappeared right after she was here, but maybe one of the rats took it and stashed it, and maybe Nicky got into it.
But maybe he didn't. I don't believe I gave him any free-roaming time after I put out the bait, and he didn't die suddenly as I'd have expected from ant poison. He died over a couple of days, with hind-end partial-paralysis, which I've seen before in elderly rats who've had strokes. And as I said, I have no idea how old he was, but any rat over two and a half is considered elderly. Their average lifespan is only two-to-three years.
Still. Maybe it was my fault. I've searched for that missing ant trap and there's no sign of it. Julissa doesn't remember whether or not she threw away an ant trap, so that's no help.
Nicky, baby, I'm so sorry. You were so fine. I sang that to you - Oh, Nicky, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind! Hey, Nicky! Now I have only your empty cage and my memories of your plush-soft fur, your soft and constant chattering, your incorrigible habit of nipping my earlobe or cheek when you had had enough shoulder-riding and wanted down. Nick, you started off life with someone who didn't love you enough, you used to be named Curly Joe. You came to me late, and I renamed you. I had to work hard to earn your trust, but I did, and I loved you. I loved you so very much.
Goodbye, sweet boy.
Nicky the rat passed away today. I don't know how old he was, because he was an adult rat when I got him as a rescue, a little over a year ago, but I'm guessing he was between two and three years old. He had been healthy and lively right up until Thursday, when he seemed lethargic and reluctant to come out of his fleecy tunnel. I took him out and held him, and though he seemed a little sleepy, and a little unsteady on his feet, he chattered happily nestled on my shoulder while I watched TV and worked on the computer. I thought I could detect a slight click in his breathing, and respiratory infections can kill a rat fast, so I started him on antibiotics right away.
But I don't think the problem was respiratory. By Friday he was still unsteady, almost to the point that he seemed partially paralyzed in the hind legs. He could move them, but it was clear he preferred not to, even going so far as to neglect to get up to urinate. On Friday he stopped eating and drinking. I continued to hold him and sing to him and try to coax him with treats, and to give him antibiotics, but I could tell he was worse, not better.
When I went to bed around sometime around 0330 Saturday, he was very lethargic, moving very stiffly, and had a slight odor I've come to associate with impending death in a rat. It's not an unpleasant odor, not decay, but it's distinctive - perhaps ketoacidosis from not eating? - and I knew it was looking bad. I held him and stroked him, and told him how much I wanted him to stay, how much I loved him, but that if it was his time to go, I would understand.
When I got up this morning, I found him cold and stiff, but curled up on his side with his eyes closed: it appears that he simply went to sleep and didn't wake up, a mercy I am grateful for.
A part of me is terribly afraid I killed him. I recently put out ant baits in the bathroom, not realizing the rats would find it attractive. But while another rat, Survivor, was out roaming, he stole an ant trap and stashed it under the bed. He didn't eat it at all, just stashed it. I retrieved the bait and made sure he couldn't get at it again. But one trap went missing. I thought Julissa, who cleans for me, had thrown it away, because it disappeared right after she was here, but maybe one of the rats took it and stashed it, and maybe Nicky got into it.
But maybe he didn't. I don't believe I gave him any free-roaming time after I put out the bait, and he didn't die suddenly as I'd have expected from ant poison. He died over a couple of days, with hind-end partial-paralysis, which I've seen before in elderly rats who've had strokes. And as I said, I have no idea how old he was, but any rat over two and a half is considered elderly. Their average lifespan is only two-to-three years.
Still. Maybe it was my fault. I've searched for that missing ant trap and there's no sign of it. Julissa doesn't remember whether or not she threw away an ant trap, so that's no help.
Nicky, baby, I'm so sorry. You were so fine. I sang that to you - Oh, Nicky, you so fine, you so fine you blow my mind! Hey, Nicky! Now I have only your empty cage and my memories of your plush-soft fur, your soft and constant chattering, your incorrigible habit of nipping my earlobe or cheek when you had had enough shoulder-riding and wanted down. Nick, you started off life with someone who didn't love you enough, you used to be named Curly Joe. You came to me late, and I renamed you. I had to work hard to earn your trust, but I did, and I loved you. I loved you so very much.
Goodbye, sweet boy.