Tonight is Rappy's night.
And, in a way, also Rosie's and Mambo's.
Three unique little members of our little family, each one of whom wove some unfathomable and subtle magic upon our household, and on all who met them.
Mambo was with us for only a very short time, his departure a story mixed with deep sadness and grief (especially on the part of Monsterman) and a bizarre and almost surreally comical slapstick finale. But Mambo was the first pet Monsterman could truly call his own, and was a cute and manageable pocket sized bundle of fragile snuggliness with whom my lad, the weight of his world on his young shoulders, could lavish and receive boundless amounts of affection.
Rosie's yarn has been unravelled elsewhere. She joined our house and took over where Mambo left off. There was not a waking moment in this house when there was not a small white fluffball perched somewhere on Monsterman's person. Some might think it's daft to say so, but I credit Rosie with the majority of Monsterman's coming through a rough time for him - confident in himself and open and cheerful and eager to explore on the other side of his travails. Losing Rosie left a great hole in our home life - and it took the better part of a year to find someone who could step into her shoes.
Enter Rappy.
Rappy had not had the easiest of beginnings - at least as far as one can count such things with a domesticated pet rat, though I'm sure it was the life of Riley compared to that of rats in the wild or the street rats running rampant in their leather jackets and riding their miniature motorcycles. Still, Rappy had her upsets early on. Born as potential snake fodder, rescued in timely fashion from a brief life as a laboratory experiment, she moved in with a family in a town not all that far from here - the young girl of the household for a year and a half until, with the welcoming of teenage hormones, Rappy was given her marching orders.
Fortunately for Rappy, there are some people on this planet who are more than able to fall in love with what most would (in their more charitable moments) call domesticated vermin. Rani is one such person. Rani runs a one person "rodent rescue" operation: taking on unwanted pet and lab rats, feeding and caring for them until such time as she can find what she sees is a perfect match between rat, home and owner. Rani cared for Rappy for eighteen months, unable to find the right home for Rappy, and unable to resist Rappy's many charms. After a series of e-mails where they discussed their love of all things ratty, and how much he missed Rosie, Rani decided she had the perfect new friend for Monsterman. The new friends name, was Rappy.
There was a rushed and excited flurry of activity as Monsterman made sure he had everything looking just perfect for Rappy's first night with her new family. It was, without question, love at first sight. Unlike Rosie, Rappy was full of energy and curiosity and was, from the very start, an extremely talkative and chattery girl. When she wasn't eating or sleeping curled up with Monsterman, she was busy exploring and insisting on telling everyone just what she'd discovered - and how much she could really do with a museli bar right about now.
For over a year Rappy kept us informed of her doings and Monsterman kept her informed of his love and care of her. She in turn, demonstrated repeatedly that he was the number one love of her little life - other people might be tolerated, but it was him she always sought out and chirrupped at when the time came for safety and snuggles, or for her to make her little kangaroo-like hops up the stairs for her evening food and sleep time. Sometime around eighteen months after she became part of our family, Rappy developed a lump on her side - what appeared to be a small cyst. It didn't stay small for long though, and it grew and grew until it pushed at her foreleg when she walked and caught on things when she climbed. More than once it was the cause of an ungainly and un-rodent like clumsy fall and tumble.
It was time for Rappy to become the most expensive rat in Tasmania.
Off to the vet she went for some surgery, and back she bounced, more lively than ever and proudly boasting a scar - a war wound to regale vistors with.
Unfortunately, that lump was just a precusor of the things happening to Rappy's now aging body. In the space of five short weeks, two more lumps had developed - one under her throat and one between her hind legs. The latter grew with astonishing and disturbing speed until only weeks later, it was pushing her back left leg off the ground, dragging along under her like the keel of a small furry boat. And this time we knew from the vet and by her age, that surgery wasn't an option.
Yet still she climbed and explored and snuggled and chirped away at us merrily - sometimes with even more enthusiasm than before - we were handy now for scratching those increasingly hard to get at places (like under her chin). On the nights Monsterman would spend with his mum, Rappy would come downstairs to keep me company and help me relax and doze while she chomped a bit of museli bar until I was ready to face the day. She'd chirrup at me irritatedly from Monsterman's bedroom while I showered, as if to complain about the absence of her man and having to put up with just the help. And of course, the first thing Monsterman would do on coming home would be to make sure his little girl was doing OK, and he would, of course, be greeted in turn by her excited chattering and squeaking.
Tonight though, there was no squeaking, not nattering or chattering, no scramble sliding over cushions or doonas. Tonight we came home to find Rappy lying quiet and still and cold.
The littlest member of our house had left us.
And just like Mambo and Rosie, we are going to miss her greatly, and just like them, she is never really going to be far from us and will always be loved.
Because like them, Rappy has been an integral part of the healing and growth and love and strength of our small little family.
Farewell Rappy. We miss you and love you. Sweet dreams little girl.
And, in a way, also Rosie's and Mambo's.
Three unique little members of our little family, each one of whom wove some unfathomable and subtle magic upon our household, and on all who met them.
Mambo was with us for only a very short time, his departure a story mixed with deep sadness and grief (especially on the part of Monsterman) and a bizarre and almost surreally comical slapstick finale. But Mambo was the first pet Monsterman could truly call his own, and was a cute and manageable pocket sized bundle of fragile snuggliness with whom my lad, the weight of his world on his young shoulders, could lavish and receive boundless amounts of affection.
Rosie's yarn has been unravelled elsewhere. She joined our house and took over where Mambo left off. There was not a waking moment in this house when there was not a small white fluffball perched somewhere on Monsterman's person. Some might think it's daft to say so, but I credit Rosie with the majority of Monsterman's coming through a rough time for him - confident in himself and open and cheerful and eager to explore on the other side of his travails. Losing Rosie left a great hole in our home life - and it took the better part of a year to find someone who could step into her shoes.
Enter Rappy.
Rappy had not had the easiest of beginnings - at least as far as one can count such things with a domesticated pet rat, though I'm sure it was the life of Riley compared to that of rats in the wild or the street rats running rampant in their leather jackets and riding their miniature motorcycles. Still, Rappy had her upsets early on. Born as potential snake fodder, rescued in timely fashion from a brief life as a laboratory experiment, she moved in with a family in a town not all that far from here - the young girl of the household for a year and a half until, with the welcoming of teenage hormones, Rappy was given her marching orders.
Fortunately for Rappy, there are some people on this planet who are more than able to fall in love with what most would (in their more charitable moments) call domesticated vermin. Rani is one such person. Rani runs a one person "rodent rescue" operation: taking on unwanted pet and lab rats, feeding and caring for them until such time as she can find what she sees is a perfect match between rat, home and owner. Rani cared for Rappy for eighteen months, unable to find the right home for Rappy, and unable to resist Rappy's many charms. After a series of e-mails where they discussed their love of all things ratty, and how much he missed Rosie, Rani decided she had the perfect new friend for Monsterman. The new friends name, was Rappy.
There was a rushed and excited flurry of activity as Monsterman made sure he had everything looking just perfect for Rappy's first night with her new family. It was, without question, love at first sight. Unlike Rosie, Rappy was full of energy and curiosity and was, from the very start, an extremely talkative and chattery girl. When she wasn't eating or sleeping curled up with Monsterman, she was busy exploring and insisting on telling everyone just what she'd discovered - and how much she could really do with a museli bar right about now.
For over a year Rappy kept us informed of her doings and Monsterman kept her informed of his love and care of her. She in turn, demonstrated repeatedly that he was the number one love of her little life - other people might be tolerated, but it was him she always sought out and chirrupped at when the time came for safety and snuggles, or for her to make her little kangaroo-like hops up the stairs for her evening food and sleep time. Sometime around eighteen months after she became part of our family, Rappy developed a lump on her side - what appeared to be a small cyst. It didn't stay small for long though, and it grew and grew until it pushed at her foreleg when she walked and caught on things when she climbed. More than once it was the cause of an ungainly and un-rodent like clumsy fall and tumble.
It was time for Rappy to become the most expensive rat in Tasmania.
Off to the vet she went for some surgery, and back she bounced, more lively than ever and proudly boasting a scar - a war wound to regale vistors with.
Unfortunately, that lump was just a precusor of the things happening to Rappy's now aging body. In the space of five short weeks, two more lumps had developed - one under her throat and one between her hind legs. The latter grew with astonishing and disturbing speed until only weeks later, it was pushing her back left leg off the ground, dragging along under her like the keel of a small furry boat. And this time we knew from the vet and by her age, that surgery wasn't an option.
Yet still she climbed and explored and snuggled and chirped away at us merrily - sometimes with even more enthusiasm than before - we were handy now for scratching those increasingly hard to get at places (like under her chin). On the nights Monsterman would spend with his mum, Rappy would come downstairs to keep me company and help me relax and doze while she chomped a bit of museli bar until I was ready to face the day. She'd chirrup at me irritatedly from Monsterman's bedroom while I showered, as if to complain about the absence of her man and having to put up with just the help. And of course, the first thing Monsterman would do on coming home would be to make sure his little girl was doing OK, and he would, of course, be greeted in turn by her excited chattering and squeaking.
Tonight though, there was no squeaking, not nattering or chattering, no scramble sliding over cushions or doonas. Tonight we came home to find Rappy lying quiet and still and cold.
The littlest member of our house had left us.
And just like Mambo and Rosie, we are going to miss her greatly, and just like them, she is never really going to be far from us and will always be loved.
Because like them, Rappy has been an integral part of the healing and growth and love and strength of our small little family.
Farewell Rappy. We miss you and love you. Sweet dreams little girl.
