I love freecycle. If you watch the postings closely, you can pick up just about anything you could need or want: a travel trailer, say, or infant formula. Clothing, shoes, and toys. Or rats. Pet rats, not feeders. Fancy rats.
Like Sneaky.
And Tiny.
We'd been considering an African Giant Millipede as a camp pet for the preschool, but when I saw a freecycle posting for several rats, I reconsidered. Got approval from the director. Got the rats.
Jack and I brought them home, nameless, last Sunday night. Coincidentally, the very same day we found their habitat new in the box from Goodwill for $12.99 (were my planets aligned or what? those mothers cost around $80 at PetSmart!). Jack promptly named the brown hooded one Sneaky, and the hairless one Tiny. They spent the night comfortably enough, I supposed. But when I checked on them Monday morning I thought something was horribly wrong. Sneaky dug in a corner, hurling bedding behind her, and what looked like a body part. Oh my stars, that's not merely a body part, it's an entire body! Christ in a sidecar! Sneaky delivered 4 tiny rat kittens in the night.
This is the only picture I managed before providing a box for Sneaky to give shelter to her wee babes. She carried them in, one by one, and I never saw them again. Seriously. I never saw them again. Alive, that is. The first one that I'd mistaken for a body part was already dead. That left Sneaky with three kittens to care for. Tuesday morning when I checked I discovered her sleeping soundly on one dead kitten. I saw hide nor hair of the others. Slowly I realized the awful truth: Sneaky was guilty of an atrocious, cannibalistic infanticide.
I took her to preschool anyway, along with Tiny. I hope they don't eat any of the kids.
Like Sneaky.
And Tiny.
We'd been considering an African Giant Millipede as a camp pet for the preschool, but when I saw a freecycle posting for several rats, I reconsidered. Got approval from the director. Got the rats.
Jack and I brought them home, nameless, last Sunday night. Coincidentally, the very same day we found their habitat new in the box from Goodwill for $12.99 (were my planets aligned or what? those mothers cost around $80 at PetSmart!). Jack promptly named the brown hooded one Sneaky, and the hairless one Tiny. They spent the night comfortably enough, I supposed. But when I checked on them Monday morning I thought something was horribly wrong. Sneaky dug in a corner, hurling bedding behind her, and what looked like a body part. Oh my stars, that's not merely a body part, it's an entire body! Christ in a sidecar! Sneaky delivered 4 tiny rat kittens in the night.
This is the only picture I managed before providing a box for Sneaky to give shelter to her wee babes. She carried them in, one by one, and I never saw them again. Seriously. I never saw them again. Alive, that is. The first one that I'd mistaken for a body part was already dead. That left Sneaky with three kittens to care for. Tuesday morning when I checked I discovered her sleeping soundly on one dead kitten. I saw hide nor hair of the others. Slowly I realized the awful truth: Sneaky was guilty of an atrocious, cannibalistic infanticide.
I took her to preschool anyway, along with Tiny. I hope they don't eat any of the kids.
Comments
And what a horrible outcome to Sneaky's surprise!
What did Jack say about that?
Personally, I would use this as a teaching moment: Aren't you glad I didn't eat you when you were born? The lesson here is: Be good to mommy. (insert sinister cackle)=]
Remember when I brought my cat home, she delivered dead babies the same night too.