Well, it's been about three years since I made this little site.  My old sweethearts are long gone now, but their memories will stay with me for the rest of my life.

I've also helped raise six or seven litters along the way, so I felt I pretty much knew everything about rats.  And, as it turned out, this was correct.  Well, except for one little thing I still hadn't learned yet:

How little I knew about rats.

What's really amazing is that I now have three new females and a male, and all of them exhibit traits I've never seen before.  Not in any of the other adults, or any of the kids.
   

Malinda

This was the 'evolutionary test' I mentioned on the 'Survivor' page.  It was really remarkable.
 

Miss Kitty

This is the first rat I've ever owned that actually crawls under my hand in order to be petted.  Most of them eventually learn to tolerate petting, if not actually like it, but she was the first who ever sought it out, and this was when she was eight weeks old.  She was so like a little kitten in this regard that the name stuck.

She's also the best 'shoulder rat' I've ever had.  When I'm walking around, she plunks herself right down on top of my right shoulder, close to my neck, and nothing will budge her.  When I bend over, like to pick up something, the other rats scurry backwards, trying to stay level.  Miss Kitty just clings to whatever is nearby and holds on, knowing the good ship will right itself soon enough.  In a way, it's very complimentary, as she's saying to me that she has confidence that I won't lean over so far that she'll actually fall off.
 

Bumpkin

This is a combination of a totally fearless female and an 'experiment' on my part.  The result is a brand new form of men's jewelry.

First off, she's as fearless as they come.  She will adventure anywhere, any time, any place.

Heretofore, I'd always disallowed them from running up my arm to my shoulder when I wasn't wearing a shirt.  It didn't take many flicks of the elbow when they started climbing up to dissuade them permanently.  I couldn't help but wonder if they had some natural aversion or caution; some natural understanding that this was "skin", as referred to "surface material", like a shirt.

I decided to put it to the test.  With this last litter, I put up with them crawling up my arm and across my bare shoulders, prickly little fingernails and all.

Enter Bumpkin.  While all of the others seemed to show a slight natural caution about clawing their way across my skin, Bumpkin showed absolutely no aversion whatsoever.  To her, all of me was fair game.  On top of the head.  Straight down my bare chest to my lap.  All of the other rats have had the good graces to at least wait until I lean back a bit.  Not this one.  Down the arm to the hand while I'm typing.  And it's the whole 'down the arm' thing that's the most bizarre.

The other day I ripped up some cardboard, folded it in half, and placed it under an object to level it.

Bumpkin was wrapped firmly around my right wrist the entire time.

The other night, just seeing how far I could push it, I pretended I was giving an enthusiastic sales pitch, gesticulating wildly with my hands, drawing big circles and squares in the air, pointing at poor Mr. Picky in his cage, shouting, "You!  I want you, you, you (stabbing my finger madly at him) to buy our product!"

Again, Bumpkin was wrapped firmly around my right wrist the entire time.

I call it living jewelry.

She always has the opportunity to clamber back up my arm to my shoulder, but she doesn't.

She just likes it out there.
 

Mr. Picky

Yes, I have a picky rat.

A living oxymoron.

The three females are ready to kill over some treat, and he'll just sniff at it, maybe take a tiny nibble, then walk away.

As these things go, it's pretty damn insulting.

Of course, the females think this is great.  He's usually the only one awake come lunchtime, so down he goes to the kitchen with me.  He sits up on the shelf while I'm eating and I'll feed him the occasional piece of sandwich.  He disdainfully sniffs at it, eats a few bites so as not to appear rude, and leaves the rest.  That evening I'll bring one of the girls down with me and she's ready to faint at the sight of what he's left behind.

As another example of his pickiness, when I take one of the females downstairs with me during mealtimes, I usually give her a treat when we get back.  I let her into Ratville, hand her a treat and say "Tha-a-ank you," meaning, 'Thank you for the nice visit'.

With Mr. Picky, when I say "Tha-a-ank you", I mean 'Thank you for taking the treat.'