Joe was in first grade.  Someone had to take home the classroom pet rat for the holidays.  Of course I said yes!  Newsy Rat was adorable.  We have movies of him and even with the littlest one he was gentle and sweet.  He was very soft and as I recall white and grey.  True.  A pet rat.  I know. 

The school year ended and there were new rules at the school – no more live rodents (go figure.)  So someone had to take Newsy Rat home as a permanent pet.  Of course I said yes!  If this and the other pet stories aren’t proof that Al is headed for the Pearly Gates, I don’t know what would convince you.

Newsy Rat was a nice pet all in all, but I have to tell you it was a chore keeping his cage  – and the area around it – clean.  It wasn’t until a woman I knew who worked with lab rats clued me in that I learned that male rats rather spray if you know what I mean.  Fortunately he was next to a mirror closet door so I could just use windex to clean up. 

It was okay, he really was very sweet and cute.  We’d take him out of the cage and he’d just poke around the towel we’d put him on, sniffing and tickling our hands, maybe eating a little rat kibble out of our hands. 

Rats only live about one and a half  to two years, which I also learned from my friend when I was lamenting that the honeymoon was over.  It was not long after that I went in to find him lying lifeless on his side.  Even that, a dead rat, broke my heart.  He wasn’t just a rat, though, he was Newsy Rat.