put one down, pass him around

so last sunday i had to have one of my boys put down. he was young. the problem with rats is that they're tough little buggers and by the time you know for sure they're sick, they're already very sick.

and because they're so small, they go south pretty fast.

so i'm at the vet, holding him in my arms or at least cradling him in an arm while holding him against my chest, i know he's dying. he knows he's dying and now we all know it.

i have to see the pictures to know for sure, though, because i hate having to make the decision to put them down. i prefer it when they die at home, next to me on the pillow, or snuggled in with the other rats.



left to right: annika, mukhtar, masud. the little one in my hand is zoe. she's about a quarter of the size of the boys, who are big hogs.



this little guy saw the demise of both of the two older females; he was the kind of guy that stayed with them and kept them warm. where they went, he went.

which was a great testament to his capacity for forgiveness, because when he was brand new and just put in with the girls zoe ignored him and annika tried to kill him. she put a slash across his belly that we thought might need stitches.

but it's time for him to die and we have him in the oxygen cone, thinking maybe we don't have to give him the blue shot but he hangs on long enough that we know we have to help him along out of this life.



left to right: mukhtar, his one working lung and a lung either collapsed or full of fluid or tumor; we did not try to find out. his heart should be visible; instead it's under the bad lung. that's not a good sign.

so first the vet gives him a sedative.

i take a lot of sedatives; it's part of keeping me alive. but i know that moment when it just kicks in and i know in a few minutes i'm going to be alseep; deep in the arms of morpheus, nameless, faceless, insensate.

and he relaxes. yes, that's good. he feels better. but now it's time for the blue shot.

you know, they make you sign a form that states you understand this is irreversible, which i think it silly. is there anyone who does not understand that death is permanent?

so he gets the shot and i hold him in my hands, watching the light go from him. i feel his breathing stop, and his heart. but still his nervous system hasn't given up; he twitches a lot. his feet and ears get that blue oxygen-deprived look and he twitches for a while more.

"come on buddy, " i say. "you can do this. don't fight."

and for a moment i'm thown into a panic. make them take it back. give him another chance. since when is anything irreversible?

if you've ever looked into their eyes when they're dying you know that even after they're all done they're not quite gone. there's something still in there; his soul, maybe? does a rat have a soul?

and there's a tiny, nearly imperceptible moment when the last of his light goes out. i can't bear to put him down while he's still warm, sitting at the stainless steel table, and i'm holding him and talking to him, saying goodbye, kissing his little soft ears.

his name was mukhtar, an arabic name that means "chosen". he came to me with his brother, his littermate, when the two of them had been abandoned. masud and mukhtar. lucky and chosen.

and now there's only masud, who has never been alone in his entire life and today is thursday and he's so lost and confused.

masud never used to sit still with me; he always had to get up and see something. but tonight he lay on my chest while i read; his little body over my great heart, the speed of our breathing so different.

and he had to lie right under my chin. he had to put his little hands all over my glasses.

"no, you're not allowed to bite the glasses. no, you're not allowed to bite the bible." (i am trying to read through isaiah before saturday.)

but he puts his little hands all over my face; on my cheeks, in my nose, in my ears. you really have to be able to concentrate if you're going to read through all that.

but then i'm done reading and i have to give him his medication. when one rat dies and the remaining one has the sniffles, the remaining rat gets antibiotics.

batril, while a very effective veterinary antibiotic, is horrid-tasting. it smells horrid to me and since my rats seems to enjoy the tastes of things people like, i'm assuming it's every bit as filthy tasting as it smells.

and i have to hold him still while i pump a syringe of it in his mouth. you have to do it from the side, because otherwise he can block it with his tongue.

he hates it. he squirms and struggles and screams at the top of his little lungs but for some reason he does not bite. he is too good a boy to bite, even though he could put his teeth right through my hand if he wanted to.

it's a thought i have to keep in consideration while i'm putting him through this, just in case i wear out his prodigious patience. and then i always give him a treat, partly to say i'm sorry, and partly to help him get the taste out of his mouth.

he is not always glad to see me lately.

and the ground is frozen, so until springtime, i have a rat in my freezer.

i promised him that i'd bury him somewhere pretty. out by the fountain at grandma's house, where all the other rats are buried. he has friends there.