Argh.
Phase three of allergy attack: exhausted, but too buzzed on the albuterol to get back to sleep. I wish xenoprex would go to generic already, dammit.
I've been missing my little punkins lately. I need something fuzzy to snuggle.
We all remember Max. My widdle snuggle bunny baby. Here he is napping with me the thanksgiving before last, when I'd had the first of the two surgeries, and was recovering at my sister's. He was last in the nap chain that day. We were all on the sofas--one big sofa and two loveseats, one of which I have now--and started napping serially. Jen went to sleep. Then Jon fell asleep. Then I fell asleep (You can see the lump that is me in the black and white, there), and then Max fell asleep. Jen woke up and got this shot of Max napping next to me.
I miss him so much. He loved having his belly rubbed and his ears scritched, and he'd boogle at us when he was really content. When we got him, he was so angry. He bit and clawed, and was very aggressive. But, we kept working with him, set some ground rules about no food on the couch (he was really demanding about food), and he finally chilled out and decided that we were there to let him out and keep him warm and make him happy.
This is Esther. She was a miracle baby. She got really sick on two separate occasions, and Jen stayed up with her and snuggled her and fed her juice from a dropper, and she got better. Her time passed awhile ago, but she's still bright in my memory. Ester loved tea and pomegranate seeds, you see. If I had a cup of tea, she would put her paws on the rim and pull down so she could have a drink. When I'd nom on pomegranate seeds, she would insist I share. She didn't want me to hand them to her, oh no, she had to pick her own darn ones out of the bowl. The chamberlain of the double-cage, she always had to make sure that the food was properly hidden, and all the bedding was just so.
This is Fawny-Fawn, the littlest rattie. She was the archetypal younger sister, doing what everyone else did. She was a sweetie. Her eyesight was super-bad, so sometimes she'd hold in place and then sway back and forth, trying to make sense of the images she was getting. Given that I can't see six inches in front of my face without my glasses, I understand why it was so hard.
Here we have Izzy. She was sort of neurotic, and very very meek. She liked scampering around, and loooved yogurt. We tried to introduce her and Max at one point (she was spayed), but he was too aggressive then, and bit her finger. She scampered up onto my shoulder where I tried to pet her and calm her down, and she bled worryingly on my shirt. Jen had to run down and get some cornstarch to dip her little hand in, to stop the bleeding. She was still as scuttly as any girl rat, but she seemed to stick closer.
Jax hard at work at her favourite task--nomming my yogurt. Given that we had to mix medicine into it, it was good that she liked it. She was much bolder and more adventurous than her cagemate Izzy--Izzy and Jax came after the Big Group had passed on. She loved running around and playing with Izzy. She'd had her eye scratched out before she could be sold, and since she was "damaged goods," had to be adopted out instead. Regardless, she came to us, and she was silly goofy the whole time. Never any time to snuggle--she was all go-go-go!
I don't have pictures of the others, so I'll just talk about them.
Bella and Beauty were the first two of the New Batch--Jen had had Amalthea in college, but not another punkin since then. Bella was a gift, and as neurotic as the day was long. I didn't get to know her very long; she was already sick when I moved in. J&J say she used to be a fat waddler, but I only knew her as skeletal-thin from the mycoplasma that was hurting her lungs. She'd snuggle for a bit--that is, hide behind a back or up a shirt--I'm guessing because we giants were warm, and she was cold.
Beauty looked a lot like Jax, but had two eyes. She was the AlphaRat. She chewed through printer cables, computer cables, stamps, whatever her little teefs could reach... and, given that she was so inquisitive, her nose took her teefs all over the place--even to the point of sticking her heads in our mouths. You see, she'd figured out that those big things were where we put food, but it never came out. She figured if she stuck her head in there, she could investigate. Eventually, she got to the point where if she was thirsty, we'd find out when she yanked our mouths open and tried to lap up the moisture, and we'd make sure the water bottle was accessible.
*waits for people to finish freaking out* Yes, she stuck her head in our mouths. We dealt, and it was cute.
Cinder was BetaRat, and then became AlphaRat when Bella and Beauty were sequestered. Beauty kept Bella company, and Bella needed to be away from the Big Group, or she'd be picked on. Cinder was only thumbs away from taking over the world. She was the smartest rat I've ever met. She could figure out how to open anything if she was allowed to poke at it. Instead of pushing the little ball in the water tube with her teeth, she'd hold it in with her first finger, and lap up what came out. She and Jen also had an arrangement re grooming--Cinder would chew the calluses off Jen's feet, and Jen would pick out the gunk that would always get caught in the scales of rattie tails. No other rat would let us clean that gunk, so Cinder always had the least-ucky one of the bunch.
Daphne was... odd. According to Jen, when they first got her, she was the most well-adjusted and "normal" rat of the bunch. She was always findable then because she would snish--little rattie sneezes. She called her Snish-pie. However, during a playtime session, she tried to take some spaghetti away from Greta, a rat who didn't live long enough for me to meet her. Apparently, taking Greta's spaghetti was something you simply DID NOT DO, and Greta clawed one of Daphne's eyes out. It wasn't "Oh, I'm gonna get your eye," rattie eyes bulge out, and they're vulnerable to injury. She was rushed to the vet and cleaned up, but her personality changed drastically. The Daphne I knew was a giant, fat porker of a rat, and with a bad attitude. She'd bite everyone else's ears and made them squeak (rats do NOT squeak unless they're hurt or terrified), so we had to put her in her own cage. She would poo all over, instead of in specific spots, even in her food and in her wheel. Rats don't normally do that. When she'd run in her wheel, the poo would get flung all over. Was icky. I feel kinda sad that I never got to meet the sweet Daphne.
Holly was an impulse acquisition, because she apparently looked like Greta Lily, I have just been informed, and J&J were missing her something fierce. She was black, but had a white tummy, a rarity as aside from Esther, all the other rats have been hooded. Holly was a bold explorer, and loved trying to get to places she shouldn't be. She always wanted to go up, up, up, and figured out how to tell us how she wanted us to help. She figured out that human arms were stable enough to run along, and they could link her to high places she'd never be able to get to otherwise. She'd get up on our shoulders, then tug on our shirts with her teeth. Whatever shoulder she tugged on, that was our cue to lift that arm so she could run out along it and explore what she could find at the end of it. She'd run up trouser legs (apparently causing one guy to freak out), loot pockets (she made a fair start of nibbling Tony's wallet once), and make like an acrorat by climbing up the outside of the cage and going along the tubes, trying to see if there was anywhere she hadn't explored yet. Unexplored territory was a heresy to her.
Max was the only snugglebunny, as boyrats are much lazier and snugglier than girlrats. The girls are all "GOGOGOGOGOGOGO," and the boys are more "You have food? No? Well, this belly isn't gonna pet itself." I'd love to have one of my own, but this place is a pet-free zone, which sucks. I could really do with a small fuzzy to take care of and snuggle with.
I've been missing my little punkins lately. I need something fuzzy to snuggle.
We all remember Max. My widdle snuggle bunny baby. Here he is napping with me the thanksgiving before last, when I'd had the first of the two surgeries, and was recovering at my sister's. He was last in the nap chain that day. We were all on the sofas--one big sofa and two loveseats, one of which I have now--and started napping serially. Jen went to sleep. Then Jon fell asleep. Then I fell asleep (You can see the lump that is me in the black and white, there), and then Max fell asleep. Jen woke up and got this shot of Max napping next to me.
I miss him so much. He loved having his belly rubbed and his ears scritched, and he'd boogle at us when he was really content. When we got him, he was so angry. He bit and clawed, and was very aggressive. But, we kept working with him, set some ground rules about no food on the couch (he was really demanding about food), and he finally chilled out and decided that we were there to let him out and keep him warm and make him happy.
This is Esther. She was a miracle baby. She got really sick on two separate occasions, and Jen stayed up with her and snuggled her and fed her juice from a dropper, and she got better. Her time passed awhile ago, but she's still bright in my memory. Ester loved tea and pomegranate seeds, you see. If I had a cup of tea, she would put her paws on the rim and pull down so she could have a drink. When I'd nom on pomegranate seeds, she would insist I share. She didn't want me to hand them to her, oh no, she had to pick her own darn ones out of the bowl. The chamberlain of the double-cage, she always had to make sure that the food was properly hidden, and all the bedding was just so.
This is Fawny-Fawn, the littlest rattie. She was the archetypal younger sister, doing what everyone else did. She was a sweetie. Her eyesight was super-bad, so sometimes she'd hold in place and then sway back and forth, trying to make sense of the images she was getting. Given that I can't see six inches in front of my face without my glasses, I understand why it was so hard.
Here we have Izzy. She was sort of neurotic, and very very meek. She liked scampering around, and loooved yogurt. We tried to introduce her and Max at one point (she was spayed), but he was too aggressive then, and bit her finger. She scampered up onto my shoulder where I tried to pet her and calm her down, and she bled worryingly on my shirt. Jen had to run down and get some cornstarch to dip her little hand in, to stop the bleeding. She was still as scuttly as any girl rat, but she seemed to stick closer.
Jax hard at work at her favourite task--nomming my yogurt. Given that we had to mix medicine into it, it was good that she liked it. She was much bolder and more adventurous than her cagemate Izzy--Izzy and Jax came after the Big Group had passed on. She loved running around and playing with Izzy. She'd had her eye scratched out before she could be sold, and since she was "damaged goods," had to be adopted out instead. Regardless, she came to us, and she was silly goofy the whole time. Never any time to snuggle--she was all go-go-go!
I don't have pictures of the others, so I'll just talk about them.
Bella and Beauty were the first two of the New Batch--Jen had had Amalthea in college, but not another punkin since then. Bella was a gift, and as neurotic as the day was long. I didn't get to know her very long; she was already sick when I moved in. J&J say she used to be a fat waddler, but I only knew her as skeletal-thin from the mycoplasma that was hurting her lungs. She'd snuggle for a bit--that is, hide behind a back or up a shirt--I'm guessing because we giants were warm, and she was cold.
Beauty looked a lot like Jax, but had two eyes. She was the AlphaRat. She chewed through printer cables, computer cables, stamps, whatever her little teefs could reach... and, given that she was so inquisitive, her nose took her teefs all over the place--even to the point of sticking her heads in our mouths. You see, she'd figured out that those big things were where we put food, but it never came out. She figured if she stuck her head in there, she could investigate. Eventually, she got to the point where if she was thirsty, we'd find out when she yanked our mouths open and tried to lap up the moisture, and we'd make sure the water bottle was accessible.
*waits for people to finish freaking out* Yes, she stuck her head in our mouths. We dealt, and it was cute.
Cinder was BetaRat, and then became AlphaRat when Bella and Beauty were sequestered. Beauty kept Bella company, and Bella needed to be away from the Big Group, or she'd be picked on. Cinder was only thumbs away from taking over the world. She was the smartest rat I've ever met. She could figure out how to open anything if she was allowed to poke at it. Instead of pushing the little ball in the water tube with her teeth, she'd hold it in with her first finger, and lap up what came out. She and Jen also had an arrangement re grooming--Cinder would chew the calluses off Jen's feet, and Jen would pick out the gunk that would always get caught in the scales of rattie tails. No other rat would let us clean that gunk, so Cinder always had the least-ucky one of the bunch.
Daphne was... odd. According to Jen, when they first got her, she was the most well-adjusted and "normal" rat of the bunch. She was always findable then because she would snish--little rattie sneezes. She called her Snish-pie. However, during a playtime session, she tried to take some spaghetti away from Greta, a rat who didn't live long enough for me to meet her. Apparently, taking Greta's spaghetti was something you simply DID NOT DO, and Greta clawed one of Daphne's eyes out. It wasn't "Oh, I'm gonna get your eye," rattie eyes bulge out, and they're vulnerable to injury. She was rushed to the vet and cleaned up, but her personality changed drastically. The Daphne I knew was a giant, fat porker of a rat, and with a bad attitude. She'd bite everyone else's ears and made them squeak (rats do NOT squeak unless they're hurt or terrified), so we had to put her in her own cage. She would poo all over, instead of in specific spots, even in her food and in her wheel. Rats don't normally do that. When she'd run in her wheel, the poo would get flung all over. Was icky. I feel kinda sad that I never got to meet the sweet Daphne.
Holly was an impulse acquisition, because she apparently looked like Greta Lily, I have just been informed, and J&J were missing her something fierce. She was black, but had a white tummy, a rarity as aside from Esther, all the other rats have been hooded. Holly was a bold explorer, and loved trying to get to places she shouldn't be. She always wanted to go up, up, up, and figured out how to tell us how she wanted us to help. She figured out that human arms were stable enough to run along, and they could link her to high places she'd never be able to get to otherwise. She'd get up on our shoulders, then tug on our shirts with her teeth. Whatever shoulder she tugged on, that was our cue to lift that arm so she could run out along it and explore what she could find at the end of it. She'd run up trouser legs (apparently causing one guy to freak out), loot pockets (she made a fair start of nibbling Tony's wallet once), and make like an acrorat by climbing up the outside of the cage and going along the tubes, trying to see if there was anywhere she hadn't explored yet. Unexplored territory was a heresy to her.
Max was the only snugglebunny, as boyrats are much lazier and snugglier than girlrats. The girls are all "GOGOGOGOGOGOGO," and the boys are more "You have food? No? Well, this belly isn't gonna pet itself." I'd love to have one of my own, but this place is a pet-free zone, which sucks. I could really do with a small fuzzy to take care of and snuggle with.