The joy of nursing something back to life

For those of my readers who do not know, I have two pet rats. Since I'm sure this question has popped into your head (why in the hell do you have pet rats?!), I'll deal with it before going on. When I was young my friend had a pet rat and I found them to be very intelligent and interesting creatures. Despite all the other mice, hamsters, gerbils and things I have owned throughout my life, I find rats to be very sweet and intelligent creatures who make great pets. Like a dog or cat, you can teach them tricks, to respond by name, and you can see their soul in their little eyes. Unfortunately most people think of them as the gross disease-ridden creatures who become unwelcome house guests, but they are quite the opposite and very worthy of your love.

About a year ago I had taken a break from graduate school and since we did not feel we had the time to deal with a new dog or cat, it was agreed I would get a pet rat. Not knowing much at the time I purchased a single rat, thinking they were like hamsters (who prefer to live alone and will typically kill a roomate), and bought him a large mansion meant for 6 rats. We named him Lemmywinks. After a little reading about my new friend I realized my rat was actually social and meant to have a friend. I also learned that rats that come from pet stores (in my case I actually saved him from becoming a snake dinner from the other buyer in the store at the time), are not usually socialized and are not totally comfortable with humans. This being my first rat, I had an even bigger challenge at hand. I loved him like a child, but he clearly had issues. While he never bit me, he squealed and threw a fit when I tried to take him out to play and seemed to be depressed, laying around the cage and sleeping a lot.

After some researching and reaching out, I met a wonderful family who owned a rat shelter and rescue near me. You can find their website here: http://butters-rat-rescue.webs.com/
They agreed to take him for 2 weeks and socialized him to have another ratty friend who would come live with us, and also to be more comfortable around people. It was hard being away from him for so long, but when I brought him back I learned he had a lung infection that would have soon developed into pnemonia had I not brought him to people who knew the signs of this infection. He came home with a little baby rat he was friendly with and I adopted him into our home. Mike named him Nikko. I continued to administer antibiotics to him twice a day and he improved drastically. I could take him out to play, he seemed so much happier with his new friend, and everything was going very well.

He was set to take the medication for 3 weeks and when that ended I stopped giving him his twice a day dose of medicine. Just 2 days later he went from super healthy to practically dying. I gave him a treat in the morning before going off to work as always, and when I came home he was hovered in the corner wheezing and shaking, his eyes overrun with mucous. I thought he was a goner. I petted him and cried for hours that night. Though I knew he was having a flare up of his lung infection and simply needed more medication, rats tend to go down quickly and he seemed so bad and refused to eat or take medicine. I was unsure if he'd make it through the night. Finally he took a little medication and some liquid ensure through a tube I continuously poked at his mouth praying he'd eat.

That was a terrible night. I kept getting up to feed him and try to get him to take his medicine. I knew he was toward the older end of the rat lifespan but hoped if he could just take his medicine and let me feed him food by tube I could save him. He would eat the ensure by tube every hour, just a little bit at a time. He needed to stop and gather his breath between every few bites since it was hard for him to breathe. He made the saddest wheezing noises I'd ever heard. I just kept trying to feed him and pet his head to make him feel better. At the end of the early morning hours I covered him with a blanket and went to sleep. He was too delirious and weak to move to his usual bedding spot and I worried he wouldn't make it through the night. I just wanted him to be warm and comfortable.

The next morning I came down to give him medication and feed him more. He was receptive, so I stayed home from work. I fed Lemmy every hour by tube, as much baby food and ensure as he would eat. I knew even if he was getting better, starving to death would put an end to that. He refused to eat any solid foods or drink water. I kept giving him food by tube as often as he'd accept it. By the end of the night I felt exhausted, like I was taking care of a baby. He was still wheezing but seemed to be eating a lot more of my liquid food and looked a little better. He walked around the cage some and I thought he was improving. I personally felt like I was losing a part of my life, and felt very depressed and found sleeping nearly impossible.

The next day I had to go to work for awhile but had my friend come over to feed him. I fed him for nearly 20 minutes that morning; the amount of food he'd accept was increasing drastically and I knew he was improving. My friend came over to feed him midday and I came home early to continue the same. He was definitely getting better. Finally around 1am that evening I gave him a last dose of medicine and food and went to sleep. I didn't sleep well at all, I had so many bad dreams about losing my baby ratty. Finally I dragged myself out of bed to feed him Saturday morning, and found to my surprise he was finally eating solid foods from his bowl!! All my hard work had paid off, it seemed the medicine was working again and he was practically self-sufficient to feed himself.

That was this morning. Some of my friends still question my devotion to curing something that only "cost $5 to replace." That very comment makes me sick since this is my pet who I love dearly. Replacing him is not possible. I can buy a hundred new rats, but not a single new Lemmy. I spent the past 3 days devoted to feeding something through a tube and praying for his recovery, and that was rewarded by what seems at this point to be a mostly recovered rat. He still wheezes a bit and still needs to be fed ensure (won't drink water but will eat solid food), but his eye is no longer covered with puss, he walks around the cage and plays with his other rat friend, and I believe as long as he continues the medication (which he takes without any fight whatsoever), he will live awhile longer and continue to be healthy. I can say that I've never tried to nurse something that truly seemed minutes away from dying, back to health before, but it's one of the best feelings I've experienced so far in my life.