In 2021 I adoped 3 baby (domestic) rats from the humane society. I named them Linguine, Fettucine, and Rigatoni, aka the Pasta Triplets. Rats are amazing pets, and these three little guys brought me so much joy and life. Truly the only downside to having a rat is that their lifespan is so short.
In October I had to say goodbye to Fettucine due to cancer. This weekend Rigatoni let me know that his time had come, and I helped him across the Rainbow Bridge. I only have Linguine left of the trio, and I know that he is quite old, and likely lonely being the sole survivor (rats are very social creatures, you should never have just one).
I’m not in a position where I can get more rats, and I know that it’s just a matter of time before Linguine joins his brothers. I’m pretty heartbroken, and yet I feel so stupid sometimes expressing this grief because “they’re just rats,” even though I KNOW that they were more than just little stinkers.
Having a really difficult time. I managed to stay away from booze, but after Rigatoni passed I just wanted to Stop Feeling, so I got high. Not proud of it, and of course it didn’t help. Winters are tough enough for me with Seasonal Affective Disorder (on top of my regular ol’ depression), and knowing that my three boys will not be with me during this season is really bumming me out.
I don’t know. I guess I’m rambling. Thanks for listening.
) but getting high or drunk doesn’t help. It makes you deal with the feelings longer because you bury them and they resurface later.