I’m pretty miserable right now. Scuttles is definitely dying. I can’t find any tumors on him and he’s definitely not dying of old age, so my guess is that he caught Tom’s cold. Anyway, I’ve been crying on and off and am not in the mood to really write much now, so I’ll be back another time.

Later...

It is with much sadness that I begin this entry, for I have lost my sweet little friend. I’ll miss my dear Scuttles. He was so cute, smart, and fun to play with. He really loved me as much as I loved him and looked forward to seeing me as I did him. And poor Ratsy, who has to live all alone now. Rats don’t like living alone. Ratsy doesn’t like to come out and explore nearly as much as Scuttles did, but when he does - boy is he a hyper one! Maybe that’s why he doesn’t last as long when he’s out. Scuttles was much calmer than this little guy. Why is it that all my rats (with the exception of Bear) have died so soon, yet Ratsy, the oldest, lives on and on? Tom thinks it’s because all the others were bigger than Ratsy, and that the larger you breed an animal to be, the more you cut their lifespan.

And where does our mean, insensitive, unfair, cruel, heartless, ruthless God fit into all this? Only he knows. I’m angry with him, that’s for sure. He didn’t have to let Scuttles die so young, so soon. I only had him for five months. And I still don’t know what killed him, either. I didn’t see any tumors, and he certainly wasn’t old, although he looked and acted it during these last two days. He was weak, he wouldn’t eat and lost weight, and his brown fur started graying in the back near his tail. Tom doesn’t think he caught his cold, or else he’d have given it to Ratsy and Ratsy would be sick and dying, too. He reminded me that it could be a blood disease or other things just like people get. Maybe something went wrong with his kidneys or liver.

The last couple of days, all he did was lay around. He was very weak and appeared to have difficulty breathing. I couldn’t get him to eat, but he did take a few drinks here and there. Amazingly, he wanted to come out at times, too. It was like he wanted to see me and explore as much as he could, knowing his time was limited. He didn’t roam around, though, like he usually did. He’d just walk a few feet away from his door and sit there. At one point, I put him by himself in the pig’s old tank because Ratsy wanted to play and I thought it was hard on him with the way he was jumping all over him. However, despite his weakened state, he jumped right out of the tank, wanting to go home and be with Ratsy, even though Ratsy could get quite rambunctious.

It’s scary how fast one can die. Just three days ago he was as healthy as could be, so full of life and energy. It scares the shit out of me when I think of the possibility of losing Tom before I die between the ages of 61 and 63 like I’ve sensed I would for a few years now. Whether or not he died slowly or suddenly, I could not live without him and I would not live without him. Not even if I had all the money in the world and could buy anything money could buy.

We were about as close as any pet and owner could be, and I wonder - how long will I grieve for him? How long? I can be concentrating on talking with Tom, reading, singing, writing, etc., and then he pops into my head and I start bawling my eyes out. I think my eyes will always at least sting every time I think of him. Sometimes they just burn with the threat of tears, and other times I lose it completely and I cry and cry and cry. How it hurts to look towards his cage and not see him waiting at the door for me. That hurts the most; knowing he’s not at the door waiting to be let out to run around. To chase strings and bubbles, which is something Ratsy loves to do, too. I guess a rat is a rat. But even so, Scuttles was so special to me. There will never be another Scuttles and I can’t imagine ever bonding with another rat like this, or having another rat take to me as much as he did, although I do intend to get another rat as soon as I can. At least for Ratsy’s sake. Sorry guinea pigs. You’re cute, cuddly, and you sound neat, but you’re not my favorite rodent anymore. More like number three, with mice as number two, and rats as number one.

The day I realized he was dying, which was two days ago, was the hardest emotionally. I cried and cried so much that my eyes swelled shut and my allergies went crazy on me and I woke up every two hours. Up till I was 25 or so, I could just cry when I needed to cry. Now it seems to have a domino effect on me. Crying causes other problems, so I’ve been trying not to dwell on him too much. If I think of him too much, I burst into tears.

Surprisingly, I slept well today. He was gone when I got up at 4:00. Tom, who says he’ll miss him too, buried him in a special spot I picked out. He’s away from the others, but Ratsy will join him next to him one day. He’s just out front across the wash by the big tree.

Meanwhile, both lady mice are definitely pregnant and should have their babies any day now.