Snow Day

[bodlon]

I’d stepped into the kitchen on the way to let the dogs out this morning when I caught something out of the corner of my eye that didn’t look right. So I paused, stepped back, and looked again.

To which I promptly uttered an “Ah” of the sort that I learned reading Neverwhere back in high school, because I had an 8:40 AM appointment to have the baby rats checked out because they’ve not stopped sneezing yet, and my city is typically rubbish at clearing the roads.

The dogs were impressed, though.

So I bundled up, made a tumbler of nice, hot oolong tea, wrapped the rats’ terrarium up in a fleece blanket, and made the (only slightly harrowing) trek to the vet. Prognosis is that they seem to be thriving, and their lungs are clear, but we’re doing a round of antibiotics just in case. And by “we” I mean Altair and Ezio as well as the wee squeaklings (whose official names are Eira and Manod).

Have you ever tried to give a rat antibiotics? It goes something like this:

1) Load the syringe with candy-scented pink goo.
2) Pick up your perfectly innocent rat, who trusts and loves you.
3) Offer the rat the business end of the syringe, sigh when rat declines it on the basis that antibiotics are medicine, not delicious treats (like pizza crust, carrots, etc).
4) Try to gently introduce the tip of the syringe into the rat’s mouth, discover that rats are extremely agile, flexible creatures.
5) Adjust grip on confused and uncomfortable rat and manage to get syringe into into the rat’s mouth and press down the plunger halfway. Discover that rats don’t automatically swallow anything you put in their mouths.
6) Notice that rats are also awfully strong for their size. Keep trying to get the syringe into the rat’s mouth again anyway.
7) Drop syringe. Swear, put rat on shoulder, in hoodie pocket, or other convenient spot while you bend down to fetch it.
8 ) Adjust grip on rat yet again while pretending to ignore the “how could you do this to me?!” expression on its face.
9) Score lucky shot with the syringe and push the plunger down all in one go before the rat can squirm away.
10) Feel vaguely guilty at rat’s shocked, goo-filled expression. Wonder, bizarrely, if this is what pastry chefs in Disney cartoons feel like.
11) Put freshly tramatized, goo-filled rat away.
12) Come back in five minutes with real treats. Feel better when your rat accepts them. Ignore tiny death ray plans next to food dish.

So after that I needed a bit of a pick-me-up. Fortunately, there is no one in the house right now to prevent me from being entirely ridiculous. So I built a snowman.

Yeah, that’s birdseed in its hands. Yeah, it’s got antlers. I regret nothing.

This post has been mirrored from Christian A. Young's Dimlight Archive. To see it in its original format, visit dimlightarchive.com

Comments

[gone_fishing]

Your snowman is awesome XD

[bodlon]

I'm rather fond of him. I worry he leans a bit, and won't be too stable in the longer term, but hey! Snowman. Snowmen are fleeting.

[copperbadge]

Oh god, it's birdseed in his hands.

That is not what it looked like at first. :D

[bodlon]

SHEELA! (nws) GET OFF MY LAWN!

[contrarywise]

Awesome antlered snowman is awesome! Poor baby ratboys, I hope their coughing clears up soon. Syringe-ing a rat sounds nearly as entertaining as pilling a cat.

[bodlon]

It's getting easier, but man. They do not like the gooey pink choo-choo.

...

Hang on. Am I medicating my rats with a boneless geriatric cartoon feline? AM I?!