Ciddo

Dirty lovable poopy-footed boys… Dirty being the operative word as I cleaned out their cage today. I had to do the cage in 15 minute increments… Still sick. Absolutely disgusted, I wrinkled my nose as I noticed the vast amount of feces spread from one end to the other of each cage floor right next to each litter box. For the 1 millionth time, I muttered “these are the dirtiest boys I’ve ever seen.” Sitting down on the sofa with them to rest I felt someone staring at me…Ciddo with his soft, loving, warm gaze. I said his name and his whole body perked up. I reached to pick him up and he wiggled with delight. That’s what keeps me going through poopy cages. I’ll never forget the day I picked out Ciddo… Yes, picked him out, even though he was rescued. The person surrendering had bought a pregnant pet store rat, two of them as a matter of fact, and asked me to take the babies. We were already numbering 40 plus rats at the time and there was no way I could take all of those babies. But I took some of them. I went over and picked out the ones that I would take. At that time we were not adopting. We were a sanctuary only. So I knew they would spend the rest of their lives with me. When I picked Ciddo, our first Dumbo eared resident, the person surrendering was very excited. She said she had been worried about him because he seemed to develop early, being a little too eager to mount the females. If I remember correctly he was barely four weeks old. Ciddo didn’t get a whole lot of attention his first year. We had too many rats. Every once in awhile I would give him a little special attention, remembering him as the one I had picked out. But it’s only been in the last year that I’ve really been able to focus on him. After they went back in their cage I took some photos. I got some good shots but there was a sense of poignancy. Earlier when I had been with them on the sofa and they all wiggled over to climb into my lap, I started telling them how much I loved them and would miss them. At 2 ½ years old I knew it wouldn’t be long. Getting the cute shots, I couldn’t help but notice the age and illness in their faces same as I do when I look in the mirror at my own. Jackson always has porphyrin around his eyes. Floyd’s right eye bothers him more. Floyd stopped at the bottom of the ramp today. He had to rest to gather up the energy to climb. Even Ciddo was no longer his young energetic self. When he stopped to rest his head on Jackson’s back, I knew it was because he needed to rest. I still remember when these boys were the little boys and we had another group of boys that we would call the big boys. Those boys have been long gone and I can barely remember them. I remember their names and the way they looked, but I have forgotten some of the details of their personalities. I don’t know whether it’s because we’ve had so many rats come through here or just because time erases some of those things. But I was determined today to get these things written down so I always remember.

What Matters Most

Learned in a doctor visit: I have every right to be controlling over every circumstance of my life…and no wonder. I have been ill my whole life, due to genetics. I should enjoy controlling what little I can! I do not have to feel guilty when I get “extras” or get “out” of unpleasantness from being sick, because I also miss out on good things and have to be involved in unpleasant circumstances from being sick. My doctors have tried to get me to avoid stress, but I don’t think I understood that I really could before. Now I see my list of tasks and it is easy. I see that I don’t have to do many of the things on my list. Some stressful things can’t be avoided…taxes for instance…but so many can. I have been a taskmaster to myself and been the subject of taskmasters as a child. The rest of my life is going to be about enthusiasm and joy. I need the control of scheduling my every hour, but instead of scheduling so much unpleasantness, I am scheduling 2 hours of things I feel enthusiasm for (painting) followed by 15 minutes of unpleasantness (taxes). In reading “What Matters Most” I understand the point that the journey, not the goal, is what’s important. I dreamed of leaving The Rat Retreat behind when I die, but is that the point? Will it be the same thing 50 years from now? Likely not. But what I do in building it will matter…educating, making decisions, loving each rat I handle. And making sure that how I do it is a blessing to myself, not a stressor…matters above all. Without that, I cannot do any of the rest.