It Hurts, No Matter The Species

Hi everyone,

I'm here because I just lost one of my precious animals two days ago on January 16th. I have many animals; a boxer, two cats, a ferret, some lizards and frogs, two tiny mice, and now 19 precious pet rats.

I lost my beautiful little rattie girl, Marley (whom I always affectionately called Marley-Barley) on Tuesday evening. She was 33 months old.

Many people either don't like rats or can't understand why anyone would have a rat as a pet, which makes it all the harder when you love yours so much and you lose them. I started with pet rats about six years ago when my daughter wanted one. I'd rescued a little rat when I'd been 19 and some friends of mine had taken care of her, so I knew how friendly, smart, and enjoyable they could be. One rattie led to two (so that Buster could have company with his friend Bart) and then over the years, as they passed on (because rats only live two to three years on average), we got more.

Marley came to me in May, 2004, with her sister, Oreo Cookie. Cookie was a black and white hooded rat, and Marley was pure white with red eyes.

These two little girls were the neatest, most special little sweeties. They couldn't tumble out of bed fast enough to come and greet you at their cage door, their eyes always bright and their tiny pink hands grasping for your fingers.

I lost my sweetheart, Cookie on August 1st, 2006 at 27 months and that hurt and still does. The only problem with little animals is that they are only with you a few years but you learn to love them and attach to them as much as you would a dog or a cat.

Marley was my longest living rattie; she'd begun to lose weight about four months ago and became a very thin little girl whose spine and bones protruded somewhat, even though she still ate quite a bit. She wanted to be held all the time and I spent a lot of time with her; her favorite spot was on a fleece blanket and my husband's big cushion on the sofa. She'd snuggle up on my neck and brux her teeth, something they do when they're very happy; it's a light, chattering sound.

I knew that her time was coming close, and every morning, when I'd go down to check on her and her cage-mate, a neutered rattie boy named Stanley, I'd be afraid to look in in case she'd passed during the night.

This past weekend she became even more weak and began experiencing some breathing problems; she'd been on heart medication, as well as some prednisone for respiratory and heart issues, but eventually, as my husband said too, no medicine is going to help when it's just your time.

She died in my arms on Tuesday night, and I'm having a very hard time with this. I'm crying as I type this. Like many of the posts I've read here, I feel a great weight in my chest. I cried all Tuesday night. Yesterday I had to get out of the house and went driving because otherwise I kept looking at the sofa where her favorite spot was and going over there to touch the spot, or looking in her cage. You know they aren't there, but your heart doesn't want to believe it. I kept her favorite blanket that has some of her hairs on it, and like a little kid, I find myself sleeping with it close to me because it smells a bit like her and because it belonged to her.

Sometimes I think I can't stand to keep going through this kind of pain with the little animals and their short lives, but then I see how happy they are and know that many of them in the pet stores don't go to good homes, so I keep trying to console myself by thinking that, no matter how much it hurts, at least I gave my babies' happy lives.

I'm here because I needed to find a place where I could say it hurts and not feel like I'm being over-reactive or stupid about it, or have someone give me the strangest look when, sensing I'm sad, they ask what's wrong and not only do you not want to tell them that you've lost a pet because sometimes that gets undermined, but when they ask if it was a cat or a dog, and you say 'no, it was a pet rat', they look at you like you're nuts, which only makes the grief that much worse.

I know that eventually the pain will subside, but the truth is, you never stop missing them entirely. We have a pet cemetery in our back yard where we can bury our little angels when they pass (including the loss of my precious cat Boo in 2003; I still have moments when I cry thinking about him - I cried for months after he died) where I can place flowers and other mementos and that can help somewhat.

Like a lot of others here, I hold faith that we'll reunite with our beautiful animals when we pass on. There's a book I'd like to order called 'Animals and the Afterlife' by a girl named Kim Sheridan which is supposed to be very comforting for all animal lovers, but also for those who have shared their life with rats. I'm going to be ordering it because this hurts so much, I need all the help I can get every time I go through this with one of my babies.

I empathize with everyone over the loss of any pet; it hurts so much, you feel numb. I feel numb right now, and I can't stop looking for her in all of her spots. That's the hardest part; it feels like a bad dream that you can't wake up from.

Thank you for listening. I've tried to post a picture of Marley; I hope it comes through.

Mommy loves you Marley-Barley, and all my babies. I miss you so much.