The Remarkable Things I Miss About My Rats

Last month I announced that for the first time in almost 30 years I am ratless. This was an extraordinarily difficult decision for me to make and one that came with a lot of tears.

I’ve been diagnosed with several different chronic illnesses, one of which requires medical equipment and daily treatments. They all cause chronic pain and unrelenting fatigue; fatigue so profound that something as simple as showering and getting dressed can wipe me out or cause my body to ache. Some days I even struggle to walk without yelping in pain, and at times I need a cane. Then there are migraines, insomnia, and a whole mess of other frustrating symptoms. What I’m left with is a body that is anything but reliable.

Since I never know how I’ll feel on a given day or moment, I was really struggling to keep up with my standards of rat care. Then my veterinarian of 20 years announced she was moving to another state, and I realized how much harder things would get without her. I can’t make constant trips to a vet clinic anymore, some days I’m lucky to manage a shower. My vet knew this and often did phone consultations for the more basic issues. She was also affordable. She believes in keeping the cost of her services reasonable for rat owners, whereas the other vets in my city do NOT.

Chronic illness hasn’t just made rat care more difficult, it’s also made my work life harder. It’s why I stopped publishing my monthly magazine, “It’s a Rat’s World,” in 2020 and why my art business has been on hold for several years. Without these things, it’s much more difficult to save for vet care.

I was faced with a terrible realization; I should not get any more rats once Brinley and Moffett passed away.

Saying Goodbye

It’s now been 10 months since I said goodbye to my adorable Moffett (4-5-24) and eight months since his sweet brother Brinley (6-7-24) left me. Knowing that they were to be my last, I cried especially hard and long over the loss of these boys. Before I could even begin to recover, I then lost my packrat rescue, Miss Brisby (7-31-24), whom I’ll be writing about next month. Even though more than half a year has gone by, the ache I feel for these cherished friends has yet to diminish. My desire for more pet rats burns strong, and I don’t imagine it will ever fade.

If you’ve lost several, or far too many rats, then you know loving them isn’t for the faint of heart. Thanks to their unfairly short lifespan, it can be rip-your-soul-out-painful to continue going through loss after loss.

So why do I still desperately want more? Why does any rat owner keep putting themselves through this gut-wrenching experience? The only answer I can come up with is that there are just too many wonderful things we’d miss about them if we didn’t.

What I Don’t Miss

So far the only things I don’t miss are:

1. Cage cleaning! Oh man do I love NOT having that chore, especially when I’m having a particularly painful day (or week).

2. The stink of a dirty cage. No one likes the odor, but it can actually trigger a migraine for me.

3. Stressing over a sick rat. I always kept large groups (eight was my self-imposed max) with a range of ages, so it wasn’t uncommon to have at least one in the group on medication or needing major care.

4. Lastly, I don’t miss the heartache of yet another rat loss.

That’s it though! I’ve sat here contemplating whether there is anything else to add and — there isn’t.

So Much To Miss

Instead, all I can think about is the million reasons I love and miss my rats, all 59 of them. It brings tears to my eyes actually thinking of all those remarkable rattie creatures that came in and out of my life. For the sake of time, I’d like to at least share the most notable things I miss about a house filled with beloved rats.

Comforting Rat Noises

I miss the choir of sounds that I heard every day coming from the rat room. Like the rapid succession of tinging and clacking when the water bottle was in use. Or the distinct noise of their food being rifled through by a picky rat, as each piece hit the side of their bowl.

No more echoes of rats rattling their cage door, alerting me that I have hungry fuzzers waiting for their morning treats. I miss the banging of the plastic huts against the cage floor or walls whenever a rat was “remodeling.” I find myself longing to hear squabbling of brothers or cagemates, or the squeaks and squawks from a play fighting or power grooming session. I even miss the rhythmic melody of them chewing on plastic cage accessories or the cardboard I gave them.

Every unmistakable sound that came from their cage meant rats lived in my house, and it was the soundtrack to my day. I could always tell what they were up to just by what I was hearing. You don’t realize how much of your own routine is dependent on these audible cues. Or how silent and rather lonely everything becomes when they are gone.

Feeding Time Joy

I really miss feeding my rats. Some days I would get annoyed at having to stick to a feeding and water schedule. This happened on particularly painful days or if I woke with a migraine. All I wanted to do was stay in bed, but my duties as a rat mom prevented that. While it’s been a relief to put my body first, I actually miss many of these mundane type tasks that come with ownership. That’s because they weren’t without reward.

I loved witnessing the delight and excitement my ratties got from being spoiled with food. I enjoyed making rat-sized bowls of fruits and vegetables, and other healthy snacks that I dished up every night while making dinner. It was always immediately followed with rats rushing from every corner of their cage as I called out, “Treats, treats, treats, treats, treats!” in a specific, high-pitched, melodic voice. There was never a rat in my mischief that didn’t know what that call meant.

It was a highlight of my day, watching these greedy little creatures grab and snatch their delicious prize, while shoving one of their friends out of the way just to avoid sharing.

The Abundance Of Different Personalities

I desperately miss all the individual personalities rats have. I miss how goofy and naughty they can be. Or how some are outgoing and others are reserved. Some are fearless, while others run to you for comfort when they’re afraid. No matter the personality, I loved and miss them all.

One of my greatest joys was learning about a new rat when I brought them home. I loved watching how their unique character would grow and transform through the different stages of their life. Not to mention how predictable a rat becomes once you know who they are.

I miss giving my husband a daily briefing on what the rats were up to or the funny thing I observed one of them do. I miss telling him success stories when a shy rat had shown courage or was finally learning to trust me. I miss telling him random stories about my rats as if they were hairy (or bald, depending on the rat) little humans and I was just talking about my kids. “You’ll never believe what (fill in the rat’s name) did today!” was always a conversation starter at the dinner table.

Snuggles, Cuddles, Kisses, Bruxes, And Boggles

The thing I miss the very most is their companionship and the time I spent cuddling with them.

I miss the feel of their fur in my hands and the way they either smelled like warm corn tortillas or the combination of grape soda and fabric softener. I miss the tickle of their whiskers on my face when giving them kisses, or at least trying to before I got a paw to my mouth when they gently pushed me away. I miss being groomed by my rats and the way it made me feel special and loved, like they saw me as one of their own.

I miss our nightly cuddle sessions while watching TV or movies. Giving them tummy rubs, back rubs, foot massages, and playing with their tails as they laid next to me or on me. I miss the way my heart felt full every time I saw them brux or boggle their eyes. Sometimes all it took was some scritches on their back to send them into this state of bliss.

I miss having a pile of rats snoozing next to me every time I write one of these articles or work on my art. They were my writing buddies and my inspiration for everything creative I did. I especially wish Brinley and Moffett were still here right now, sleeping next to me on their backs with their tummies up and their feet in the air, making me laugh.

I miss the calming effect rats had on me when just holding or petting one. And they don’t judge you. Every difficult moment I’ve gone through in my adult life up until now, was made a tiny bit easier because of my precious rattie kids. They were there to comfort me through tears and sadness, and gave me purpose.

I cannot tell you how much I ache to just sit and hold a rat friend again.

I Miss Being A Rat Owner!

Lastly, I miss telling people I have rats. Over the last couple of months a few people have brought up hearing that I had them as pets. Having to tell them that I no longer do, does not only feel foreign and strange, but it also feels absolutely icky.

I barely remember life before rats. Was there a time when I didn’t have them? I liked telling people I was a rat owner. I was proud of it! Even if I got nasty looks, and rude comments like, “Ewww, you have rats?” I still felt special despite it, superior even. I mean, rat owners are better than everyone else, right? We aren’t scared of rodents and won’t jump up on a chair and scream when we see them. Heck, we even kiss them!

When you’re a rat owner you’re a part of a club; a club of misfit owners that revere the feared and maligned!

But now, my rat cages sit empty. Does this mean I forfeit my membership? Or does almost 30 plus years as an owner give me a lifetime membership? The thing I’m worried about is at what point will my identity no longer be synonymous with rats?

I genuinely hope that this being ratless thing is only temporary. Maybe someday I will again hear the noise of a mischief of rats echoing throughout my home or feel the warmth of a rat snoozing away in my arms. That would be pure bliss!

If you’ve recently lost a rat, please check out my article “Dealing With a Beloved Pet Rat Death,” and you have my deepest condolences.