My Happy Rats

I have rats in my house.

This is not the horrible scenario is would seem like.

I'm really happy to share my home with these two little rodents.

It's a long story how they came to live with me, and that will be a tale for another blog entry.

They are two little boy rats, Adams and Calhoun. Adams is mostly white, but he as a black head with a streak of white on his forehead. Calhoun is nearly entirely black, with some white on his stomach.

Adams is tiny, cute, sweet and lovable. He's happy to see me coming, runs to greet me, loves to have me tickle his tummy, and loves to snuggle with me. I love him and he loves me. Poor little Adams is susceptible to respiratory infections, and spent more time at the vet and taking medications than I would like. Especially since it costs me a small fortune everytime!

Then there is Calhoun. Calhoun only wants two things out of life. Food and "out". And if you are unwilling or unable to comply with his wishes, he has no use for you. He is smarter than me, and can escape from very nearly any enclosure. I wish I had a dollar for every time I searched the house in a panic, thinking this is the time he's gone for good.

I wouldn't be surprised if Adams thinks his name is "Where's your brother?"

I should have known from the start that Calhoun was going to be trouble. When I went to the breeder to pick out my rats, she suggested that I put my hand in the cage to see which ones were the friendliest. I think there were about 12 or 15 baby rats in the cage. I stuck my hand in, and the all scattered, terrified of me. All but Calhoun. He jumped into my hand, ran up my arm, across my shoulders, and took a giant leap from my shoulder to the door of the cage, where he rode the swinging door back and forth. I swear I heard him yell, "weeeeee". In my naivete, I thought that was SOOOO adorable, I just had to have this rat. Yeah, good plan. He went from a tiny little bundle of energy, to an enormous bean bag of energy. He's driving me to an early grave. He completely and totally understands the concept of my back being turned, and will wait for the right moment to make his break. I can't tell you the number of times I just turned around for a second, to turn back and discover that he has jumped out of the 2 foot high play pen and has made for parts unknown.

He also has criminal tendencies. One day he was climbing all over me, and he kept poking his nose in my pocket. I has some dog biscuits in my pocket earlier, and I thought that was what he was after. All of sudden, he JUMPED up and BOLTED away, with a dollar bill in his mouth. I don't know where he was going to spend it, or what he was going to buy, but he was heading out with it.

"My boys", as I like to refer to them as, live in a giant cage in my little living room. They have a big "play pen", which is really just a big plastic corral that is full of rat toys that is supposed to keep them entertained. The play pen works great for Adams. For Calhoun, not so much. He's in, he's out, he's in, he's out. That's the routine, over and over. It's at moments like these that he's earned his nickname, "Rat Bastard".