*dusts off Hobbies forum*
Maybe this is the place, maybe it isn't, but I really don't have much other in way of an outlet to vent this, so here I am. Ecce homo, and all that. Sensitive readers, please go elsewhere now. This is not a feel good story, and there is no happy ending.
As some of you may know, the Evil Wife and I have quite the soft spot for critters of all varieties. I've had just about every conceivable kind of pet in my life. My friends have described visiting my home as being like visiting the zoo, only that YOU are the new and exotic exhibit for all the animals to gawk at instead of the other way around. Cats and dogs living in harmony, all that shit.
A few years back, the EW suggested we get a pet rat. This was a bit odd to me…I've had just about everything but…rabbits o' plenty, hamsters, guinea pigs, chinchillas, you name it. So, this wasn't anything too far off the map, I said 'go for it'.
To keep things brief, I'll just say that these little critters stole my heart. Tiny, delicate little hands so like our own, huge personalities in contrast to their tiny stature, and lots of love to give overall. The biggest drawback being their so brief life spans – literally if they get 3 years from birth to death they're doing good, so it can be very hard in that respect for anyone with half a heart. So often, their only life is to be born, sold to a pet shop, and be eaten by what is in their view surely a giant terrifying monster, or used by doctors in horrifying ways in the name of science. The odds on any of them living any sort of happy life are unfortunately very slim. Despite any of this, or perhaps more accurately because of it, I take saving these little guys very seriously, just like rescuing cats/dogs/whatever. I can't save every animal in the world much as I'd like to, but I do take great pride in being able to provide a good life for my own little pack.
We've been pretty successful with the ratties, caring for 2-6 rats at any given time, for several generations now. They are very social critters, and as pack members get old and pass on, you have to have younger members coming in in order to have a healthy social dynamic. It is very hard to deal with the older pack members passing on, but that is part of all our lives and I'm happy that I can be there for them throughout their lives, and as they make that last journey I always try to be there with them, making them as comfortable as possible.
Recently we were down to 2 girls, both 'rescues' we were able to save. 'Peanut' has already gotten past cancer once, and is getting old. The other, 'Zola', is my 3 legged wonder that we got to keep Peanut company when her former cage mate passed on last year. She is pretty amazing – the missing leg doesn't slow her down at all. She has been a pretty big inspiration, really. We all get dealt some shitty hands in life, and her determination to rock right the fuck on like nobody's business despite only being 75% quadroped is truly something to behold in action.
As they're both getting on, we thought we'd get a couple of young girls to put in with them. We've done this many times in the past, and it always worked out well. The young ones seem to put a little more life in the older one's step, so to speak. Helps to keep their social dynamic strong when the oldest eventually passes, also.
Rather than rescues, we went to a local independent pet shop who seemed on the up and up. I immediately honed in on a 8-10 week old black and white who was stretched out chillin', and the EW picked out a younger tiny gray hooded who was very energetic, jumping around and trying to get everyone else in the cage to play with her.
Got them home and set them up in their new digs, within sniffing distance of our girls but not together in the same cage until we could make sure they were healthy. 24 hours later, I was going to put them in the big cage with the others pending good health. The black and white seemed fine, and so we put her in. The others gave her their usual sniff test, and within minutes they were bouncing around the cage together with glee. The little girl was overjoyed with her new lot in life, it was apparent. Rather than living out her life in a matter of days, she was somewhere plushly comfortable with friends and all the kibble, treats, and water a rodent could ask for. Mission fucking accomplished!
The other girl, who we had tentatively named Cashew (I believe animals name themselves if you give them the opportunity, but you have to call them something in the meantime), seemed to be wheezing a bit. Not unusual, the stress of being in a pet shop and brought home often brings out a bit of latent sniffles. Took her to the vet, upon which little Cashew made a complete fool of us both (at great expense, I might add) by exhibiting absolutely no abnormal behavior during the exam, and generally presenting as being fit as a fucking fiddle. Vet thought we were nuts, but gave her a quick steroid shot just to ensure her system would rally as she acclimated to her new home.
Got her home and let her chill for a bit, and decided since she was doing OK to introduce her to the others. (Keeping a single rat alone is bad news, as they will physically whither without social interaction.) Peanut and the other new girl were still asleep, but Zola heard new girl checking out her new digs and came up to investigate. I didn't think this was a big problem, they have to meet sometime, and there is usually a bit of pecking order establishment and whatnot. I stood there with the door open as they started to do their thing, keeping an eye on the situation in case I needed to separate them if they got a little too rough.
To my great astonishment, Zola attacked little Cashew viciously. I separated them as soon as I heard the barest hint of a squeak, but with a single bite on the back of her precious little neck, it was too late. Poor little Cashew was mortally wounded, bled out and died within a matter of seconds. This sweet little girl who I had worked so hard to rescue and give a good life, killed in an instant.
Not ashamed to say, as a grown ass man rapidly approaching half a century old, I wept like a baby for this tiny creature. All my pride in being able to rescue her from being eaten by a reptile, outlandish money at the vet to make sure she would be healthy, and improbable potential for a great life, ended in a single bite from the very one she was brought there to comfort.
I'm glad she did not suffer for long. Not sure if maybe the steroid shot made her smell funny, or if Zola thought she was from a competing female's litter because she was so little, or what…obviously, Zola's not going to tell and we'll never know for sure. The black and white who was slightly larger seems to be doing just fine with the other two, so there had to be SOMETHING that set her off about little Cashew.
I feel terrible. For all my efforts, for everything I could do as the supposed higher mammal, I let little Cashew down by my actions, and now she is no more. She would have probably been better off if I had never even stopped by that pet store, despite any amount of good intent I had. I will never be able to look at poor Zola, who had such a rough life before joining our pack, quite the same again either.
I have always operated on the philosophy that when you do good, good comes back to you, but I'm having some major difficulties seeing how this one could possibly work out as such. I simply cannot fathom how a just God could punish such selfless kindness with such unspeakable cruelty, but he seems to have a strong track record of doing precisely that.
Thank you for reading, TGL brothers and sisters. I'm not fishing for condolences or someone to show me a silver lining (not that I think there is one). I am sorry to share such a tale, but as noted, I must share it with someone.
TL;DR It just really, really sucks to try to and save this poor little creature's life with such great effort, only to have mother nature rudely stick her cock in my ear and laugh at me for trying.
If anything, I would ask that you please say a small prayer that little Cashew makes it safely to wherever innocent baby rodent souls go tonight.
Godspeed, little one.