I have two pet rats, or rather one pet rat now. Last night the two of them were playing in their cage as normal, running around and play fighting, stealing from the piles of food they made at opposite ends of the cage. This morning one of them had died.
His name was Dillon.
When I first went to buy my rats his brother, Dutch, was the liveliest in
the pet shop, was straight up to me and curious and wanted to play so he was
the first one I picked out. The choice
for the second wasn’t as easy, none of the others had the perkiness he
had. That’s when I noticed Dillon. He was the runt of the litter, barely half
the size of the others. When the other
rats ran and hid together they pushed him out of the group.
Seeing how he was being treated by the others I knew he was
my second pick.
The next two years Dillon and his brother were beloved pets. I played with them every day and came to see very distinct personalities in the two of them. At the beginning Dillon was very skittish and didn’t want anything to do with me. As time went on though he warmed to me and became incredibly friendly. Where Dutch would run around and crawl up my sleeve Dillon was always happy to just sit in my hand of perch on my shoulder.
I loved Dillon and loosing him hurt. I’m worried about his brother, about him
being lonely without Dillon as the two of them have never been apart. Knowing that rats don’t live very long hasn’t
lessened the blow at all, or prepared me for the event.
Dillon was a lovely pet who showed his affection. I will miss you Dillon.
Amy.
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