Scampers, Maid Rat

The message below was recently posted on a rat list I am a member of, and is SO cute I had to share...

Ok. Scampers has now become a Molly Maid. To the right of my desk I have a towel. On it I have her food dish, water dish (just in case) and her watermelon juice dish. On that same side of the desk is a cardboard castle that she delicately chewed so she could get her ample butt into it. There she has a couple of small stuffed animals and toys.

Across the desk is another towel completely covering the desk and by the printer is a folded over wash cloth and that is where she usually pees. I make sure it gets changed daily sometimes twice a day.

Well things are not satisfactory for ol' Scampies. She has now decided that everything needs to be changed each night around 10:30 or so. She will start at the castle and toss it and the toys onto the floor. She will then start to "roll" the towel up and there it goes; on the floor.

After the right side of the desk is all cleared off she will walk over and stare at me right in the face. This means I must pick her up give her kisses and hugs and pet her for a short time. She loves laying on my chest and just relaxing with dad.

This may go on from anywhere of 10 minutes to a half hour then she wants back on the desk. There she will proceed to move the watermelon bowl and the water bowl (sometimes spilling both) plus the food dish off the big towel. Then here we go. She starts to "roll" and push the big towel until it, me and the mouse and pad are on the floor.

Time to wipe the desk down and add fresh towels. This has become an every night thing for the past few weeks. After it's all done and clean she sits at the edge of the desk all proud of herself and watches out the window. I just got done doing this "AGAIN" but it is hilarious. I have my own personal desk maid.

Harold and Scampers the Molly Rat

Nubby, the Miracle Rat

Meet Nubby

Nubby was born (or early injury) with no front paws. She really is one amazing little rattie...

The Great Escape

Christopher comes home from work one day this week in the morning. I'm getting ready for work, bustling about. He pops into the bathroom and says, "Do you know that Gabby is out?" I stare speechless, then mumble a "No..." I come out to see Gabby running on top of the tall Martin's Cage he and Drinky live in as young, eligible bachelors that they are. Chris scoops him up and we both puzzle over how he got out. No doors are open, no top left unsecured. I hurry off to work leaving a very concerned Chris.

Later, I get a voice mail on my cell. "I figured out how Gabby got out...in fact, he even showed me now...twice!" He went on to explain that Gabby was squeezing himself through the lab block self-feeder attached to the side of the cage. It's hard to believe, but somehow he managed it. As Chris pointed out, heaven knows how long he's been taking these field trips?! Thankfully, he hadn't bothered the mice in the cages on top of the rat cage...

We put a stop to it by blocking the exit to the feeder, but I had to chuckle at his sneekiness despite it all.

A Patriarch Passes

The day after we introduced Chaucer to his boys, he declined rapidly; we think it was a stroke. Christopher nursed him all yesterday, his healing hands worked magic massaging Chaucer's tired broken body, fed him Pediasure by dropper, and made sure he was warm and loved.

Last night he was put to bed, I checked on him around 2am and he was still with us. But this morning Chris came into the bedroom with Chaucer cradled in his arms, in a towel, "...He's gone."

Chaucer would have been 2 years old this coming January. He came from a line bred for longevity. Mother nature fooled us again.

R.I.P., beloved Patriarch.