The last of my nine pet rats has died. It has felt lonely in my den the past two days, but it was time, and expected.

More than three years ago now, I adopted nine female rats — two moms and their babies –to keep them from being taken to a pet store to be relinquished as (most likely) snake food.

Pet rats live, on average, two years.  All the babies survived at least that long, but starting last  year, I began to lose them, one by one. I knew it was just a matter of time before I would be completely rat-less again (something my sister Jackie was feeling darned good about; she’s not a rat person).

But how can you not just love those little faces?  (Jackie couldn’t get beyond the way their naked tails to see their assets!)  And they were very good pets.

I AM mssing them (!) but I won’t be replacing them. I need to downsize in the animal department as pets pass away because, at some point, I may be moving overseas, and I want to have as few pets to take along as possible when that happens. (I can always get more after I relocate.)

And now that I will be getting a passport as early as September, I plan to do some international traveling, so the fewer pets there are for Jackie to look after when I do that, the better she will like it. I still have three goats, three cats (all rescues, one ancient — Patches), 12 pullets (hens under a year old), and a 55-gallon aquarium with fish, so that’s enough critters for now!

I love animals. I will never be without them, if I can help it, and as long as I can continue to care properly for them.

They soothe my soul, love me unconditionally, and give me immense joy — and I do my utmost to return the favor!