The end of the furry roommate
Jan. 19th, 2006 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mousapelliMulciber's gone. I had to go to Kmart to buy a trowel and a flashlight, and the cashier said if I had bought a six-pack as well, she wouldn't have sold them to me. There was a spot near where I park my truck that had softened up enough from water pouring off the roof yesterday that I could bury him.
I've told a lot of pets that it was okay for them to go, but I never had one before that knew I was lying, and then actually refused to go. Fast as rats' metabolisms are, there's no way he should have lasted four full days without eating anything, but he geniunely wanted to stay. He could barely drag himself around by the time i had to go to class this afternoon, but he was still trying to crawl into my lap. So I told him he had to wait until I got back from class in three hours. 20 minutes after I got home, curled up on me in front of the blaring anime, he finally went.
Things that only live 2 years shouldn't be as sentient as Mulciber was. Mulciber knew what day of the week it was, what the capslock key did, and that ring baloney is something worth drawing blood over. He knew that he was a rat, and that I wasn't. Deep in his little furry soul, he knew that rats do not belong in cages, not even on laundry day.
And he had seen every single episode of Prince of Tennis. God I miss that furry little bastard already.
I've told a lot of pets that it was okay for them to go, but I never had one before that knew I was lying, and then actually refused to go. Fast as rats' metabolisms are, there's no way he should have lasted four full days without eating anything, but he geniunely wanted to stay. He could barely drag himself around by the time i had to go to class this afternoon, but he was still trying to crawl into my lap. So I told him he had to wait until I got back from class in three hours. 20 minutes after I got home, curled up on me in front of the blaring anime, he finally went.
Things that only live 2 years shouldn't be as sentient as Mulciber was. Mulciber knew what day of the week it was, what the capslock key did, and that ring baloney is something worth drawing blood over. He knew that he was a rat, and that I wasn't. Deep in his little furry soul, he knew that rats do not belong in cages, not even on laundry day.
And he had seen every single episode of Prince of Tennis. God I miss that furry little bastard already.
