The Orion Chronicles

Fred had noticed one of the rats had been bleeding for a couple of days but we couldn’t catch which one of them it was. Today he said it was Gytha, and sure enough she was bleeding – from her genitals.

So, off we went to the vet (the £31 it cost today takes it up to £187 I’ve spent on rat care in a single week) who declared her very old (which I knew) and anaemic (which I didn’t know) and said she either has pyometra or a uterine tumour. We’re hoping it’s the former.

Because she’s too old to safely spay, he gave me Synulox tablets (cat antibiotics) to try with her (apparently they’re better for this sort of thing than the usual Baytril). She’s to have a quarter of a tablet twice a day. He also said that in many cases, this would be the point at which euthanasia would be considered because he’s not optimistic about the treatment working, and he thinks she will only go downhill from here. He gave me the choice though and I, perhaps selfishly, chose to attempt treatment before going down that route.

One thing I will say is that I can’t express how happy I am to finally be registered with a veterinary surgery where the vets are willing to try new things and give me options rather than just throwing Baytril at me. The guy today did the most thorough examination I’ve ever seen a vet give a rat, and was obviously thinking outside of the box with treatment options – he mentioned a couple more but I can’t remember them now.

The sad thing is that now Gytha seems to be on her way out (and I never thought she would outlive her sister by long, they did everything together) I’m going to need to start looking for a new home for Rosie for when Gytha goes to the Bridge, as we’re not planning on getting any more ratties for a good while and I don’t want Rosie living alone. So if you’re a local rat person, expect to hear from me soon, probably via Facebook.

Fingers and toes crossed that it is pyometra and not a tumour because if it’s pyo, we have a chance of treating it and beating it. If it’s a tumour, there’s no getting better and I’ll lose her a lot sooner than I’d like.

I’m off to give her her first dose now in a little Nurish Um or ‘ratty crack’ as it’s known in this house. If you believe in that sort of thing, please send good vibes/prayers/thoughts for Gytha. I’m not sure I can cope with losing two in such a short time.

Esme “Granny” Weatherwax (unknown-20/01/2010)

Jenny noticed on Saturday morning that Esme was tilting to the side and limping with both right legs, and I feared she was having a stroke. So we took her to the vet, who theorised that she either had a bad infection or a tumour and his wager was on the latter. He gave her a steroid shot and a course of antibiotics to come home with. The next day she seemed a lot perkier; she was still a little lopsided but seemed to be happily limping around to the water and food and snuggling with her cage mates.

Today when I went to give her her antibiotics, she was laying on her side and I immediately thought she had died. I picked her up and she was still warm and breathing, but obviously dying. I held her for an hour and a half and she hung on and hung on, so I put her in the hammock with her sister Gytha and did the things around the house that I needed to do. By eight thirty she was still breathing shallowly, and I realised it was going to take her a long, long time to die by herself and that the kindest thing would be euthanasia.

So I took her to the emergency vet, using my dentist money from Fredrik to do so, because her comfort is a lot more important than my teeth, and the vet was utterly lovely with her, scritching her and cuddling her in her last moments. I said goodbye and she was taken away to be put to sleep.

Esme was a little nutty in her old age, and she and Rosie used to battle about their bedding – Rosie would spend hours painstakingly pulling it all into the hammocks and igloos, and then Esme would come along and pull it all out again. I don’t know if she didn’t like being too warm or whether she was just doing it to tease Rosie. She would always come running at the rustle of the yoggie bag and would happily sit in a hood for hours (as was evidenced at last year’s Portsmouth NFRS show!). She was adorable in both appearance and nature, and she will be sorely missed.

Run free at the Bridge, little one, free of pain and full of happiness and love.