So the title is a little misleading. NO, it is not from me flipping someone off, who didn't use their turn signal. NO, it wasn't from a close call of almost being run over. The title stems from my pet rat Pinky and the look that he gave me the other day. Oh yes, I can laugh about it now, but on Saturday, I thought I had done it.
So Pinky is old and he has come into my possession as love has gone wrong. Somehow I ended up with my son’s ex-girlfriend’s rat. Go figure! I have come to love Pinky and we have accepted him as one of our own.
I try to take him outside as much as I can as he seems to love it. Most rat’s only live to be around 2 years of age. My buddy Pinky is pushing it, so if taking him outside makes him happy then I will continue to do so.
I took him out on Saturday and let him run lose in the back yard. This is nothing new, he is old and won’t go very far (that’s what they will be saying about us someday.).
I worked inside at the kitchen table and would glance from time to time to see if he was still in view. I guess 50 minutes had passed, so I figured I should go out and check on him, as I couldn't see him and I worry about a hawk swooping in and carrying him off (It could happen.).
I stepped outside and didn't see him, so I called for him, Pinky, Pinky, where are you? Oddly enough this rat actually comes when you call him.
I then heard a sound coming from under the house/patio. I looked and my buddy was pushing with his nose, a box of d-con out from under the house. The first words to come to my lips where “oh fuck”. We had a mice issue earlier in the year, most likely from the feeding of the squirrels and birds. I had forgotten that I had put d-con under the house.
When he pushed that box out, he had a look on his whiskered little face that would have brought most men to tears. It was the look of “How Could You, You Rotten Bastard”. I stood there in panic seeing the bright yellow box with a mouse upside down and dead, slowing making its appearance. Pinky stood atop of the box with his red beady eyes burning a hole through me with his glare. I rushed over and picked him up, thinking to myself, that I had just killed my sons, ex-girlfriends rat and my new best buddy.
I felt so bad, not knowing if he had eaten any or not and if this was his final hours. I took him inside and gave him a bath in the sink. Dried him off and brushed his rat fur. I didn't tell anyone what I had done, I felt so bad. I put Pinky back down in his cage and have been watching him for the last couple of days.
Pinky is still with us, so not sure if he didn't eat any and just wanted to call me out, or maybe it was so old, it just didn't have required dosage needed.
Long story short, Pinky is doing fine and seems to be OK. He doesn't seem to be as pissed off as he was and I think we have finally moved past this chapter in our relationship.
So Pinky is old and he has come into my possession as love has gone wrong. Somehow I ended up with my son’s ex-girlfriend’s rat. Go figure! I have come to love Pinky and we have accepted him as one of our own.
I try to take him outside as much as I can as he seems to love it. Most rat’s only live to be around 2 years of age. My buddy Pinky is pushing it, so if taking him outside makes him happy then I will continue to do so.
I took him out on Saturday and let him run lose in the back yard. This is nothing new, he is old and won’t go very far (that’s what they will be saying about us someday.).
I worked inside at the kitchen table and would glance from time to time to see if he was still in view. I guess 50 minutes had passed, so I figured I should go out and check on him, as I couldn't see him and I worry about a hawk swooping in and carrying him off (It could happen.).
I stepped outside and didn't see him, so I called for him, Pinky, Pinky, where are you? Oddly enough this rat actually comes when you call him.
I then heard a sound coming from under the house/patio. I looked and my buddy was pushing with his nose, a box of d-con out from under the house. The first words to come to my lips where “oh fuck”. We had a mice issue earlier in the year, most likely from the feeding of the squirrels and birds. I had forgotten that I had put d-con under the house.
When he pushed that box out, he had a look on his whiskered little face that would have brought most men to tears. It was the look of “How Could You, You Rotten Bastard”. I stood there in panic seeing the bright yellow box with a mouse upside down and dead, slowing making its appearance. Pinky stood atop of the box with his red beady eyes burning a hole through me with his glare. I rushed over and picked him up, thinking to myself, that I had just killed my sons, ex-girlfriends rat and my new best buddy.
I felt so bad, not knowing if he had eaten any or not and if this was his final hours. I took him inside and gave him a bath in the sink. Dried him off and brushed his rat fur. I didn't tell anyone what I had done, I felt so bad. I put Pinky back down in his cage and have been watching him for the last couple of days.
Pinky is still with us, so not sure if he didn't eat any and just wanted to call me out, or maybe it was so old, it just didn't have required dosage needed.
Long story short, Pinky is doing fine and seems to be OK. He doesn't seem to be as pissed off as he was and I think we have finally moved past this chapter in our relationship.
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