Rat Slideshow (All of our photos)
Friday 26 December 2008
Saturday 20 December 2008
Rat Politics
Squeak = You're ugly. Squeak Squeak = I don't like you anymore and we will not be speaking again until I say we will.
And that is just the case when they speak to each other - god knows what they say to us or about us when they Squeak when being spoken to.
It never fails to amaze me that no matter what they seem to sort out their differences - though we fail to notice the size difference from time to time the younger, smaller Rats are the ones that are the top Rat giving the orders and sorting out issues.
Again though problems can always be sorted by opening the door and giving them all a dip into the treat bag funny how the cracking of food takes their minds off Squeaking at each other.
And that is just the case when they speak to each other - god knows what they say to us or about us when they Squeak when being spoken to.
It never fails to amaze me that no matter what they seem to sort out their differences - though we fail to notice the size difference from time to time the younger, smaller Rats are the ones that are the top Rat giving the orders and sorting out issues.
Again though problems can always be sorted by opening the door and giving them all a dip into the treat bag funny how the cracking of food takes their minds off Squeaking at each other.
Mummy Rat...
... well, that's what I THINK the rats call me. Sometimes, if I'm scritching one of my boys and I find a scab with one of my finger nails it could be ... just COULD be.. that they may question whether they believe that my parents were married when I was born. All in the best possible taste, of course.
I notice when Rob loaded the pictures onto this brand new blog (he's the geek in the pack) that he refers to the people in the pictures by the generic term 'baby rat'; this is because he has no idea which of our 20 rats is which. He will go to the cage (our house is inside their cage since the cage is so big) and enlist a volunteer to cuddle, wave it under my nose and say "which one is this?"... the one that EVERYBODY recognises is the one with the nickname "LB". His story will emerge at a later date, but trust me, if you wish to maintain ownership of all ten digits on your hands it is wise to be able to differentiate LB from the other boys. He's the only rat I've ever been scared of - perhaps scared is the wrong word, but I certainly have a healthy respect for his ability to move at speed and attach himself to my hands by way of his teeth.
We started our lives as joint rat parents four years ago. I've always had cats in the past, but Rob isn't a cat fan so we compromised and decided that we'd go for rats instead. Well, it's only one letter different, isn't it? I had had a rat in the past (Fred) and thought he was a magnificent pet, so we got ourselves two little boy rats; Grissom and Horatio. We're both fans of American cop shows and so the naming trend started..
Grissom was ostensibly Rob's rat, and Horatio was mine. They were lovely white rats with beautiful brown hoods and stripes, and had some rex in their heritage because they had wavy fur. I don't think they'd been handled much during their babyhood because they had strong opinions on being held by us when we first had them. Nevertheless, we persevered, although Rob still has the scar to this day on his finger from where he decided Horatio needed to come out of the cage, and where Horatio held a differing opinion. I have to say that Horatio never actually bit me - it could be that I was wise enough not to scritch him, whereas Rob would roll his sleeves up, don the mental metal gauntlets and scritch. Grissom and I would watch these happenings from a safe distance, exchanging glances and indulging in eye-rolling mockery at the stupidity of such actions. After all, Grissom had to live with Horatio, and had he laughed then his life would have been misery. Sheer misery.
Grissom was 850 grammes of placid loveliness. He was a Big Boy, who loved his mum. He would spend hours curled up on my knee being stroked, or on my shoulder with his tail wrapped round my neck. I was his devoted servant - he only had to look at me with those lovely black currant eyes and I was wrapped round his little ratty finger.
More later!
I notice when Rob loaded the pictures onto this brand new blog (he's the geek in the pack) that he refers to the people in the pictures by the generic term 'baby rat'; this is because he has no idea which of our 20 rats is which. He will go to the cage (our house is inside their cage since the cage is so big) and enlist a volunteer to cuddle, wave it under my nose and say "which one is this?"... the one that EVERYBODY recognises is the one with the nickname "LB". His story will emerge at a later date, but trust me, if you wish to maintain ownership of all ten digits on your hands it is wise to be able to differentiate LB from the other boys. He's the only rat I've ever been scared of - perhaps scared is the wrong word, but I certainly have a healthy respect for his ability to move at speed and attach himself to my hands by way of his teeth.
We started our lives as joint rat parents four years ago. I've always had cats in the past, but Rob isn't a cat fan so we compromised and decided that we'd go for rats instead. Well, it's only one letter different, isn't it? I had had a rat in the past (Fred) and thought he was a magnificent pet, so we got ourselves two little boy rats; Grissom and Horatio. We're both fans of American cop shows and so the naming trend started..
Grissom was ostensibly Rob's rat, and Horatio was mine. They were lovely white rats with beautiful brown hoods and stripes, and had some rex in their heritage because they had wavy fur. I don't think they'd been handled much during their babyhood because they had strong opinions on being held by us when we first had them. Nevertheless, we persevered, although Rob still has the scar to this day on his finger from where he decided Horatio needed to come out of the cage, and where Horatio held a differing opinion. I have to say that Horatio never actually bit me - it could be that I was wise enough not to scritch him, whereas Rob would roll his sleeves up, don the mental metal gauntlets and scritch. Grissom and I would watch these happenings from a safe distance, exchanging glances and indulging in eye-rolling mockery at the stupidity of such actions. After all, Grissom had to live with Horatio, and had he laughed then his life would have been misery. Sheer misery.
Grissom was 850 grammes of placid loveliness. He was a Big Boy, who loved his mum. He would spend hours curled up on my knee being stroked, or on my shoulder with his tail wrapped round my neck. I was his devoted servant - he only had to look at me with those lovely black currant eyes and I was wrapped round his little ratty finger.
More later!
Welcome
Welcome to the Rat chat pages. Here you will find posts, pics and video of our rats. At time of writing we have 20 males of different ages.
Watch out for some videos coming during the Christmas holidays
Watch out for some videos coming during the Christmas holidays
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
