[Dailydrool] Word of warning

[Elizabeth]

I believe rabies is such a dreadful and dreaded disease that vets are going to test for it every single time. One of my pet rats bit me badly, and the vet insisted she be tested after she was euthanized. 

Poor little Ruby. She was nearing her end and had been having strokes, and the bite was entirely my fault. I had her up on my shoulder, as I’d often done with her, but I shouldn’t have done that. She had another stroke while she was on my shoulder. I felt her wobble, and reached up a hand to steady her. She instinctively bit hard and deep into one of my fingers in an effort to keep from falling such a great distance to the floor. 

As I watched her after that bite, I realized her condition was deteriorating more rapidly. So the next day I took her to the vet to be euthanized. He insisted her body be sent to the state health department to be tested for rabies. I insisted there was no possible way she could have rabies. She was a fancy rat, a black berkshire, born in a pet store of pet store parents. The only time she’d ever been outside had been in her cage to go from our home to the car. If she had contracted rabies, it would have been akin to the immaculate conception. But off Ruby went to the state health department to have her head cut off. When her body was returned to me for burial, I couldn’t bring myself to check to see that it really was her in that box. As you said, Betsie, it just added insult to the injury.

I’ve always regretted how traumatic last twenty-four hours of her life were for her, and I have a scar on my finger to remind me of it. 

To make this somewhat basset related, back when Ruby was hale and hearty, I’d leave her cage door open when I was home so she could run around. A prior rat, Mabel, who didn’t put up with any basset bull, taught our late Jane Basset to respect rats by nipping her on the nose when Jane tried to get her head inside the cage to help herself the Mabel’s food dish. All it took was one nip to convince Jane she didn’t want another. 

Jane loved the rats’ food, especially the lab-rat blocks, so much that she was willing to risk a nip on the nose to try to filch what she could from the dish inside the cage. She had better luck when the rat was out doing something elsewhere. Sometimes, though, she’d push her luck a bit by looking for the food dish while the rat was still inside the cage. The lure of the lab-rat blocks was that strong. 

When Jane would do this during Ruby’s tenure with us, Ruby would reach out to grab Jane's big, long, velvety basset ears and try to pull them into her cage. I knew exactly what Ruby was thinking. Those ears were just what her nest needed to be the best nest ever. Jane would look so anxious. She was too afraid to do anything to upset the rat and get bitten again and then yelled at by me. 

Ruby would look exasperated because she never seemed to be able to get those lovely, soft ears into her nest without that great, unwieldy head coming along with them. It always made me laugh, which seemed to make Jane feel better about the situation. She had a wonderful sense of humor and thought the best joke was the joke that was on her.

Our late Elsinore, Jane’s successor, also quickly developed a taste for lab-rat blocks. She ignored Eeeka-Rat and Eija-Rat (pronounced “eh-ah,” it’s a Finnish name) entirely, focusing all her attention on their food dish.

I do not have any pet rats at the moment because I have young Charlie Basset and Molly Chihuahua, my mother’s dog, instead. Charlie would find a rat far too exciting. Even at almost fourteen years old, he loves chasing games, and rats don’t sit still. I fear he’d end up pestering a rat all to pieces to play chase with him. Molly is an inept but enthusiastic hunter with a high prey drive. I don’t want to give her the opportunity to improve her technique indoors. She also has a tendency to yap at anything that moves, and I find her voice extremely annoying to listen to. So, no pet rats for now. Someday, though. They’re wonderful little friends to have.

Elizabeth