It has recently come to my attention that I have readers. Readers! And here I thought I’d been jacking off with the window open all this time but that no one was looking. I’m not nearly as funny as Miss Doxie and I cuss way too much; I also famously have no life. (I’m beginning to get one, and it’s freaking me out.) But I can tell you about my Cookie Rat.
I started getting into pet rats in what, February? because Tony wouldn’t let me get a dog, and I needed a familiar, a companion. My life is a very lonely one. I started with the pet-store variety: you know, the white ones with the brown hood and stripe, usually — that’s called a hooded agouti. They are meaner than hell and do not much like people. One of them, Sprinkles (Boolie named her), got loose in the house a couple of months ago and remains a problem. She outwits all traps, both humane and kill; we leave the front and back doors hanging open and she never leaves. She does, however, enjoy using my jeans drawer as a toilet, which makes me homicidal, and as you know it takes a lot to do that. Toward a non-human, anyway.
But then in mid-May I adopted a trio of breeder-produced hand-raised pet dumbo rats from Cup of Tea Rattery. They are peaches and cream; they are cookie! My kids used to use cookie as an adjective; sadly, they’ve outgrown it, but when something was really great they would say Wow, that is so cookie! And these rats are really, really cookie. I adopted the mom, Olive, a black self (meaning all-black), whom I’ve sort of renamed Olivia. I’m always singing her the theme song from that stupid cartoon Olivia that Boolie used to watch.
Second is one of Olivia’s babes, whom Sam named Fudge. She’s a black self like her mama, and as she gets bigger I have trouble telling them apart. The stupid song I sing to her is Fudgie Wudgie was a rat; Fudgie Wudgie wasn’t fat . . . Fudge is a crazy little ratty, can hop super high and fast like a mini kangaroo, and she loves me. As does Olivia.
And then there is Cookie. Olivia is her mom, too.
Of course, I named her Cookie because of the three ratties, she is the absolute cookiest. She’s a mink self (meaning a solid sort of lustrous gray color), and it’s Cookie you see in the picture above. She adores me! She’s my love, my new little baby, my familiar. When I cry, she sits on my shoulder and drinks my tears. She takes my lonely home life and makes it cookie. And for that I will love her forever.