The Silence
Dealing With Death
Ronnie, a pink eyed white (PEW) rat was found by a caretaker in the dog intake area at animal
control in April 2010. He was several weeks old and abandoned in the back of the building
where dogs (lost or abandoned on the streets) are brought. It is a dangerous place for a baby
rat with no knowledge of the outside world. He would make a delicious morsel of food for a hungry dog
or a momentary play thing for another. The caretaker saw Ronnie’s plight and snatched him
out of harm’s way. He spent many afternoons riding on her shoulder as she made the various
rounds a caretaker does at the shelter.
I first met Ronnie while he road on the shoulder of Nichole the caretaker. “Look at him,” she began,
“he’s so tame he spends the day on my shoulder. I’ve even forgotten he was there.” She handed
Ronnie to me and there was an instant bond. Up until that point in my rescue of mice and rats, I had
never held such a small little baby. I took him home and was thrilled to finally have a young rat
that I could raise with the best of care, especially one that didn’t have behavioral or health problems.
Ronnie had smooth soft baby fur that glistened. He immediately became a favorite and spent many hours outside of his cage, especially with my husband Jim, who named him Ronnie after the blind music
entertainer Ronnie Millsap. Pink-eyed white rats have terrible eyesight. He spent several months in a cage by himself before Jim and I realized that he needed a cage mate. We went to Pet Smart and were smitten by a lone bachelor black and white hooded rat on sale. He was the same age as Ronnie. His cage mate had already been adopted and Howie sat like a lump in his cage all alone. After we inquired about him, he was presented to Jim to hold, but Howie promptly caught and pulled his claw on Jim’s shirt and blood ensued. While trying to treat Howie’s pulled claw, we noticed he didn’t flail or bite from the obvious pain he had from his injury. We adopted him immediately and within a few days introduced him to his new buddy.
I placed the two in a neutral area (bathtub) and let them sniff and explore each other. The two males squared off in rat fashion like two prizefighters or kangaroos holding each other apart by outstretched paws and giving the “I dare you” stare. Ronnie and Howie inspected each other for a while and had several throw down matches before the fight for dominance was considered a draw and the two became good friends.
Time passed and Howie’s withdrawn nature became more evident. I would look at him and talk, but there was always a faraway stare in response. He would not respond to me, but he would take a treat. Ronnie was outgoing and compensated for any shortcomings of his buddy while Howie took on the role of protector. Howie would only respond to Ronnie and follow his lead in everyday life.
Ronnie and Howie were always together sitting on our laps or on the back of a chair watching television with us. After a year, Ronnie began to show signs of respiratory weakness and was on and off antibiotics for the next year of his life. Howie stood by and provided the warmth and comfort a good friend would do for another. As Ronnie approached the two year mark, which is old age in rats, his health began to rapidly go downhill, and within months he had pneumonia and was put on more powerful drugs, began a regimen of nebulization, and spent every day thereafter in an oxygenated aquarium. The oxygenator sounds like a person breathing as it intensifies the amount of oxygen in the air and feeds it to the patient via a tube. Twice a week, Ronnie went to the veterinarian for oxygen treatments and penicillin injections. By his side, for hours on end, was Howie his silent buddy. Howie would offer his body for Ronnie to rest his head so he could breathe in oxygen more easily. Day after day, Howie watched over his buddy until he came down with a respiratory problem. Painfully, I had to separate them for several hours a day
to give Howie the time to rest from his vigil.
Soon both boys had to share the nebulizer. He and Ronnie had shared that device several times during small respiratory infections throughout the two years they shared time together. Howie always hated to breathe in the medicated vapors from the loud vibrating machine. Several times he would try to jump out and pop the lid to escape. Ronnie would equally show his disgust of the machine and follow Howie’s lead. This time, Howie understood how seriously ill Ronnie was and made no attempt to escape. Howie got better while Ronnie clung to life.
On the last night of Ronnie’s life, I left the two boys together. The oxygenator droned in the background pumping its life giving breath. In the morning they were snuggled together and shared a nebulization session. I then took Howie to his own cage to rest. When I returned to Ronnie’s aquarium with his favorite treat, he was dead. Howie’s vigil was over, the earthly bond was broken.
Ronnie lived two-and-a–half years, which is a full life for a rat. He died peacefully, not gasping for air. He had the good death. I turned off the droning oxygenator that had been such a constant background noise for months. There was only silence. I stood stunned by the lack of noise and the void made by Ronnie’s death. It was like closing the covers of a favorite book and putting it on the shelf.
I quickly introduced Howie to Flash who’s partner had also died during this week of heartbreak. They snuggled for a time, but within the week, Howie’s respiratory symptoms came back. He thrashed his tail wildly at being picked up or while in his cage. Tail wagging can be a sign of anger. He had to be removed to the oxygenated aquarium. Howie died one week after Ronnie. I think it was due more to a broken heart than respiratory problems. Contrary to what some experts say, I have observed many qualities in dogs, cats, and rats that we humans claim that separate us from the other “animals.” Howie showed those finest qualities.
Dealing With Death
Ronnie, a pink eyed white (PEW) rat was found by a caretaker in the dog intake area at animal
control in April 2010. He was several weeks old and abandoned in the back of the building
where dogs (lost or abandoned on the streets) are brought. It is a dangerous place for a baby
rat with no knowledge of the outside world. He would make a delicious morsel of food for a hungry dog
or a momentary play thing for another. The caretaker saw Ronnie’s plight and snatched him
out of harm’s way. He spent many afternoons riding on her shoulder as she made the various
rounds a caretaker does at the shelter.
I first met Ronnie while he road on the shoulder of Nichole the caretaker. “Look at him,” she began,
“he’s so tame he spends the day on my shoulder. I’ve even forgotten he was there.” She handed
Ronnie to me and there was an instant bond. Up until that point in my rescue of mice and rats, I had
never held such a small little baby. I took him home and was thrilled to finally have a young rat
that I could raise with the best of care, especially one that didn’t have behavioral or health problems.
Ronnie had smooth soft baby fur that glistened. He immediately became a favorite and spent many hours outside of his cage, especially with my husband Jim, who named him Ronnie after the blind music
entertainer Ronnie Millsap. Pink-eyed white rats have terrible eyesight. He spent several months in a cage by himself before Jim and I realized that he needed a cage mate. We went to Pet Smart and were smitten by a lone bachelor black and white hooded rat on sale. He was the same age as Ronnie. His cage mate had already been adopted and Howie sat like a lump in his cage all alone. After we inquired about him, he was presented to Jim to hold, but Howie promptly caught and pulled his claw on Jim’s shirt and blood ensued. While trying to treat Howie’s pulled claw, we noticed he didn’t flail or bite from the obvious pain he had from his injury. We adopted him immediately and within a few days introduced him to his new buddy.
I placed the two in a neutral area (bathtub) and let them sniff and explore each other. The two males squared off in rat fashion like two prizefighters or kangaroos holding each other apart by outstretched paws and giving the “I dare you” stare. Ronnie and Howie inspected each other for a while and had several throw down matches before the fight for dominance was considered a draw and the two became good friends.
Time passed and Howie’s withdrawn nature became more evident. I would look at him and talk, but there was always a faraway stare in response. He would not respond to me, but he would take a treat. Ronnie was outgoing and compensated for any shortcomings of his buddy while Howie took on the role of protector. Howie would only respond to Ronnie and follow his lead in everyday life.
Ronnie and Howie were always together sitting on our laps or on the back of a chair watching television with us. After a year, Ronnie began to show signs of respiratory weakness and was on and off antibiotics for the next year of his life. Howie stood by and provided the warmth and comfort a good friend would do for another. As Ronnie approached the two year mark, which is old age in rats, his health began to rapidly go downhill, and within months he had pneumonia and was put on more powerful drugs, began a regimen of nebulization, and spent every day thereafter in an oxygenated aquarium. The oxygenator sounds like a person breathing as it intensifies the amount of oxygen in the air and feeds it to the patient via a tube. Twice a week, Ronnie went to the veterinarian for oxygen treatments and penicillin injections. By his side, for hours on end, was Howie his silent buddy. Howie would offer his body for Ronnie to rest his head so he could breathe in oxygen more easily. Day after day, Howie watched over his buddy until he came down with a respiratory problem. Painfully, I had to separate them for several hours a day
to give Howie the time to rest from his vigil.
Soon both boys had to share the nebulizer. He and Ronnie had shared that device several times during small respiratory infections throughout the two years they shared time together. Howie always hated to breathe in the medicated vapors from the loud vibrating machine. Several times he would try to jump out and pop the lid to escape. Ronnie would equally show his disgust of the machine and follow Howie’s lead. This time, Howie understood how seriously ill Ronnie was and made no attempt to escape. Howie got better while Ronnie clung to life.
On the last night of Ronnie’s life, I left the two boys together. The oxygenator droned in the background pumping its life giving breath. In the morning they were snuggled together and shared a nebulization session. I then took Howie to his own cage to rest. When I returned to Ronnie’s aquarium with his favorite treat, he was dead. Howie’s vigil was over, the earthly bond was broken.
Ronnie lived two-and-a–half years, which is a full life for a rat. He died peacefully, not gasping for air. He had the good death. I turned off the droning oxygenator that had been such a constant background noise for months. There was only silence. I stood stunned by the lack of noise and the void made by Ronnie’s death. It was like closing the covers of a favorite book and putting it on the shelf.
I quickly introduced Howie to Flash who’s partner had also died during this week of heartbreak. They snuggled for a time, but within the week, Howie’s respiratory symptoms came back. He thrashed his tail wildly at being picked up or while in his cage. Tail wagging can be a sign of anger. He had to be removed to the oxygenated aquarium. Howie died one week after Ronnie. I think it was due more to a broken heart than respiratory problems. Contrary to what some experts say, I have observed many qualities in dogs, cats, and rats that we humans claim that separate us from the other “animals.” Howie showed those finest qualities.
