Sir Squeaker McSquirts-a-lot.

I am a sucker for a pretty face. It’s a fact. Just look at the lovely & talented ZoeB. I am also thisclose to full blown insane.

So it should come as no surprise that this evening, after a screening at the local artsy theater, I saw a little fella stumbling on the sidewalk. Naturally, I had to stop.

It seems that he got himself lost, and couldn’t find his mommy. Well li’l feller, I am here to help.

Yes, that’s the scarf I wore tonight. Looks better on him. We got home, and I gently plopped him into a box (thanks, Amazon!) that he took to immediately.

I put some applesauce topped with evoo, a few chopped grapes, and three baby carrots into the lid of a Tupper, then drizzled it all with some water.

It took him a while, but he’s now happily slurping the applesauce. Or maybe the water. The box fits perfectly into a cubby in the Expedit next to my bed, and I don’t want to disturb him too much.

Meanwhile, ZoeB was unimpressed at first.

(I think she was more interested in the box.)

But then Sir Squeaker decided to make little (adorable) squeaky mewling sounds. And then THE SHIT WENT DOWN IN ZOE TOWN. She is not amused. In fact, she’s downright possessive.


Yes, I am well aware that I have taken in a baby rat. I’m not so daft that I have believed him to be a Chihuahua or something.

What am I going to do? Well, if he survives the night (a tricky thing, as again, found him literally on the sidewalk, so that could mean that he got a face full of rat poison and was in a bad way) I plan on hitting BARCS and asking what I can do for him. Then, if/when he’s healthy enough & strong enough to be on his own, I will drop him off at a nice state park. Or other far-from-the-maddening-crowd foresty place.
What? I can’t help it. Look at the faaaaaace!


Update: it is now 1:30 am, and I have been reading up on orphan baby rat care. Tomorrow (er, later today) I plan on picking up some soy milk/formula. Apparently rats don’t do so well with lactose.

I also grabbed my nukeable beanbag warmy thing. Squeaker seems to love the warm. But he’s crying out to be held (squeaky mewling sounds immediately stop when I pick him up in his little fuzzy fleece “blanket”. A baby is just a baby, I guess.) Off to grab some Zzz’s before my 8:45 doc appt. That should be interesting.


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