Zig Zag

Last night, one of rattie girls, Zig Zag, passed away.

Zig Zag came home last March, right around Rob's birthday, with her two sisters, Zoe and Zanzibar. Rob and I went into the pet store to look (1st mistake) and ended up taking three adorable little ratlings home, rescuing them from their potential fate as snake food. They were tiny -- one could fit all three into the palm of your hand. As they grew up, they each developed their own personality. Zoe is the adventure rat: first out of the cage, over the top, and in search of Cheerios. Zanzibar is the most timid, but not so timid that when Cheerios make an appearance, that she can carry about eight in her mouth (using one paw to hold them) for her to stash away. Zig Zag, once the tiny runt of the sisters, grew to be the biggest. She was the shiest of the three, backing away from being held. She was, however, probably the smartest. When the girls would be out of food (treats and their staple diet of lab blocks), Ziggy would sit in the cage facing Rob (their cage is on Rob's desk) and mime eating a lab block. She'd take her little paws, empty of food, and put them to her mouth. Stare at Rob. Put paws down then back up again.

Late last week, Rob noticed that Ziggy's stomach was bigger. She was always the biggest rat, but as she sat up to clean herself, she looked like a pregnant rat. All our rats are girls, so we came to one conclusion: it was a tumor. I gently picked her up and felt her tummy: it was hard. We haven't even had the girls a year, and already Ziggy was sick. We had always figured Ziggy was just shy, but now we think she didn't like to be picked up because her stomach hurt. It was never obvious to us; she was active, eating, and for all intents and purposes, appeared healthy. Before we could do anything to help her, she was gone.

Even for a rat, Zig Zag's life was short. She was barely a year old, and not even a year into our lives. However short her stay, she has definately left little paw prints in our lives.