omgwtf!

Spruce died at around 5:00 this morning.

I am glad that he went so quickly and did not have to endure the suffering of a long, drawn-out bout of illness at the end of a relatively healthy and illness-free life. In fact, out of all the rats in his rescue group, Spruce is the only one who did not suffer from bad health; he had chronic bumblefoot and one tumour, which was removed a few months ago. Other than that, he was perfectly healthy. When compared to his brother, who had respiratory problems all his life, and the other two boys in his merry band, Eenie, who grew to a massive size, had some aggression issues, and died quite young while I was in the hospital, as well as Hemlock, who had the worst health problems of all with his active mycoplasmosis that claimed him terribly early, as well, Spruce came out looking like a champion.

I love all my rats dearly, but I have to say that knowing Hazel and Spruce was one of the most remarkable periods of my life. I hope that someday, I am able to have twin rats again. They never failed to bring a ray of joy and laughter to me.

I can’t be too sad, I suppose, because Spruce lived as full as life as he could have…but I miss my boys. I miss them terribly.

If humanity ever comes to its senses and rat medicine does indeed become a field of research, the very first thing they need to do is find a way to extend their miniscule lifespan. It is, by far, the most horrible aspect of being a rat mom.

Goodbye, Sprucey Rockets, you saucy little poo-filled man, you.

Edit: I just noticed what the quote box has in it today, and it couldn’t be more appropriate. I swear that fucking thing is sentient. It’s one of my favourite quotes from Watership Down, and one that never fails to spring to my mind when one of my rats dies: