Ugh

Yes.... I fear this is the syllable most often uttered by me lately. I'll leave out all the ugh crap not related to rodents (like medical crap, work crap, procrastination crap, and family crap). On the ugh-front crap for rodentia (or related looking species), I still dream about Peanut and Mugsy, which makes me sad; a friend's cute invading 'possum died, which made me sad; those Humane Society commercials are frickin' killing me. ugh.....

Saddest Rat News Ever

I am very saddened to report the loss of Peanut and Mugsy Rattray-Hendricks. I had the pleasure of rat-sitting them for a month this summer. They were wonderful beings, playful and funny, and possessing their own personalities. I cried a little (and am doing so again right now) when V called to say they had to be put down. Those of you who like cats or dogs or other pets.... you know what it is like to lose a beloved animal friend perhaps.... You may not know that rats possess that same intelligent, distinct personality that other pets... and humans possess. Anyway, RIP, Peanut and Mugsy. You may have been small in stature, but not in personality. You will be missed. I am now going to post V's obituary:


Dear friends and relatives of Peanut and Mugsy,
They were good rats, as good as rats can be, and sweet, especially Peanut. Mugsy made up with cuteness for his mildly belligerent behavior.
I took them to the vet today because of Mugsy's continued weight loss and panting and Peanut's huge tumor on his left hip. The tumor had started a few weeks ago and seemed to double in size overnight last week, to the point that it was larger than his head. The vet said that she thought it was a bone tumor and he was in pain, but was too brave to show it--or maybe I said that last part. I had noticed that he slid down the ramp last night instead of scurrying, but he never complained. The vet suspected that Mugsy had a tumor in his lungs because he sounded "rattly" when he breathed, more rattly than a rat is supposed to, I guess.
It was a difficult decision to make because they were both still eating, and it's hard to tell if a rat is miserable. I had been giving them wet cat food at night and they both loved it. However, they had stopped running in the wheel, even though Mugsy had always been an exercise fanatic; and Peanut, though he never refused anything I gave him, because he was too polite, would often grab his rat croissant and hide it for later, but never go back to it. However, they both ate their chewy treats last night and most of their banana pieces this morning along with some oats.
The vet gave them anesthesia, putting little masks over their faces before the shot, so they would go to sleep and feel no pain. She had tears in her eyes and gave me a hug when she brought them in, peacefully resting on their sides next to each other, their soft pointy faces and pink ears sticking out from the fleece blanket. I said my last goodbye, touching their delicate foreheads. They were still warm, their eyes open, and looked more peaceful and happy than I had ever seen them. Despite the ultimate cage, the variety of treats, even the outings on the bathroom floor when they would scamper up our chests to sit on our shoulders and heads, I don't think they were ever content with their lives. Every time they heard my voice, they would run to look through the bars, hoping to be stroked or played with, and I disappointed them most of the time. However, I think they probably had a fun month this June when they vacationed with their best friend Tracy, and she gave them much love and freedom to run. Their memory will remain through poetry on Tracy's rat blog.
They were good rats. They're in rat heaven, I'm sure. No more small caged animals for me.
V.

Stroking the Disticles

“Fondly Remembering the Disticles”

Valde pauci teneo vox de rati...
“Very few know the power of rats”

Peanut and Mugsy were with me a bit.
They filled my heart up with love for their tricks.
But others were filled with disgust and dismay…
“Keep rats in your house? No, no, no, nay, nay, nay!”

My brother said (cruelly) like testicles they felt.
What’s the problem with that? They make my heart melt---
Rats that is…. But I’ve no problem with testicles.
Even ones disconnected--- let’s call them disticles.

My husband was eager to see them away…
I could not their charms to his own heart sway.
Their power o’er me was really quite mystical.
I love to remember fondling the disticles.

--Tracinator (----original 2010, with some help with some help from Nicodemus)

Ali K is Back!

I must say that I find my devoted readership of two (more or less) very kind as rodent friends. I am often blessed with gems such as these:

"Jackson's Story"

Prologue
A poem requested
Rodents the theme
Which story to tell?
The favorite, I mean
A long time spent,
to get it just right
The one with the rabbit
That long crazy night
But wait, all that work
Shouldn’t I just check?
Do I really want to know,
what I start to suspect?

I Love you to death (a true story)
An adorable creature
Jackson his name
He lived in the basement
It was kind of a shame
He used to roam free
Had the run of the house
The cats didn’t chase him
He wasn’t a mouse!
(What the hell was he, anyway?)

It was status quo
till the day I came in
A huge furry creature,
with a tongue wagging grin
We were doomed from the start
Our lineage to blame
An undeniable fact
We just weren’t the same

The cats were pissed off
Disappeared God knows where
But Jackson remained at the top of the stairs
I’d lunge, he’d escape
to the basement with ease
A gate in my way,
through which no one could squeeze
What a fabulous game!
When would he appear?
This is how things would go
for over a year

He gets it , I thought
The point of this game
I would catch him once
then start over again
I couldn’t get him
Though I tried really hard
Until the night
I caught him off guard
Out of the basement he snuck
for a quick little visit
I obviously took the moment and siezed it
I licked him, pawed him with pleasure
I didn’t draw blood just for good measure
He eventually stopped moving
I got bored, went to bed
He was found a little later
Half dead in the den
In time he recovered
and it started again

Months went by
Me on probation
The cats ignoring the whole situation
But I couldn’t be watched 24/7
Especially between the hours of 9 to 11
One owner at work, the other asleep
I’d sneak downstairs
to take just a peak

One night, oh what fun!
Trapped in the pantry with nowhere to run
The game was most definitely back on
Couldn’t we do this everyday?
He always kept the boredom away (stupid cats)

He was found the next morning
all matted and wet
My playmate was gone
I had licked him to death.

Epilogue
The story told
Did I really want to know?
Could rabbits break into this one rodent show?
The world thinks they are related to rats
Quick research reveals an end to all that
But majority thinking matters
if this tale of woe be told
of a canine and her (rodent) Romeo.

----Ali K (original--- 2010)

I should add that this is her tenth anniversary too! I think a rat is the traditional tenth year gift....

E-rat-o Is My Muse

I was working on a unit for my lit class.... entitled "Love and Its Complications" and was inspired. I happened to think about the Muse of lyric poetry (particularly love poetry) whose name is Erato. Most appropriate...

"The Passionate Poet to Her (well, not really "hers"--- but temporarily so) Rats"

Come live with me and be my rats,

And we will hang, and chill, an 'at (this line is a nod to Pittsburgh).

The cages, tile, carpets, and floors...

May not be pretty, but who needs moors (those damned Brontes).

And we will sit upon the couch.

You'll dig your claws in, and I'll say "Ouch!"

We will frolic, dance, and romp.

And on your heads, I shall dare not stomp.

And I will make thee beds of Kleenex

And a thousand things on which to pee next.

A hiding place of an oatmeal box--

A nest of washcloths or old (clean) socks.

And every morning a banana slice...

Scrambled egg at night is nice...

Froot Loops, Cheez-its, Yogurt Yummies

Shall all find ways into your tummies.

And when your cage is being washed,

I'll let you watch TV, by gosh!

If these delights outweigh the cats,

Then live with me and be my rats.

---Tracinator (with a nod to Christopher Marlowe)

Rat-zza!

The Tracinator and DRHH (dear rat-hating hubby) are having friends and their hairless rats over for a pizza making party tonight. And, yes, the rats will be getting their own little 'za. I realized I needed to post something in celebration, but my house was in terrible need of cleaning, which sucked out all of my creative juices. Therefore, as I have done in the past, I appealed to my friend Nicodemus to provide a poem celebrating both rats and pizza. Here it is:

"Let the Rat Pizza Rise"

Exert yourself, the poetess cried
I need a poem, and although I've tried
My meter is mixed, my subjects are worse:
Can you please put rats and pizza to verse?

First mix flour and yeast and water
Leave for a shake of a rat's tail, you oughta
Add salt and knead it, till smooth and elastic
The rats will find the flavor fantastic

Don't top it with cheese, don't top with tomatoes
Instead use a puree of yams (sweet potatoes)
Instead use bananas or raisins or oyster
(whatever you wish to make it taste moister)

And people can eat all this rat pizza too
They might even like the sweet potato goo
So good luck to rats and to pizza and all
(but keep the cats locked in the room down the hall).

---Nicodemus (original--- 2010)

Ratigami

This image is from Nicodemus, talented ratigamist as well as rat poet.

Here is the accompanying poem:

"Paperatry in Motion"

Folding rats is not

like folding cranes. Legs, not wings,

and the tail must curl.

Nicodemus (2010--- original)

Beautiful ratigamipoeratry (which term is being trademarked as we speak, so don't even THINK about stealing it.