Genevieve: 2015 - Dec. 26th, 2016
2016 is a shit year that has destroyed everything worth loving in this world. This is a roundabout way of saying that my precious Gigi had to be put to sleep yesterday, and I’m not so much sad about it as I am angry at the unfairness of it. Fuck you, 2016.
Genevieve came home from the Milwaukee Humane Society in January of this year, alone, only about 5 months old, and terrified out of her wits. She was unhandleable, bit viciously, and hid in fear whenever anyone came near her cage. It took weeks of working with her every day, but eventually her walls came down and she turned into an affectionate and sassy little pain in the ass who made every day a new adventure. She remained aggressive and bossy, and attempts to introduce her into my established gang were what may kindly be called a fiasco. I feared she’d never have a rat companion, until Samwise came home.
Sam and Gigi transformed each other. Samwise was timid but inquisitive, while Genevieve was domineering and fearful. I figured a submissive single rat like Sam would probably be a good match for Gigi, who would never be able to fit into the chaos of a group of rats - it would have overwhelmed her and she would have lashed out and probably killed someone. Even with their relatively compatible personalities, it took months of slow, persistent introductions to convince Genevieve that Samwise was a friend worth having. Even after she decided to allow Sam to move into her cage, it was another month before she would even acknowledge his presence.
It turned out Genevieve liked being tackled and power-groomed, and that Sam just needed a little Gigi-shaped thorn in his side to convince him to gain a little confidence. Genevieve learned how to relax from Samwise, and Sam learned how to stand up for himself from Gigi. They were a perfectly compatible pair who rarely bickered. I’ve never seen that in a pair of rats before.
Finally, Gigi was happy. She was well-adjusted and had a best friend, she was fat and snuggly and loved getting long stroking pets along the whole length of her back. Her nose whistled a bit when she breathed, probably due to the scar tissue around it, and when she learned that I could hear that squeak and would respond to it she started whistling loudly at me whenever I was near the cage to beg for treats. She usually got them. Genevieve was enjoying life, and life was enjoying her.
Then about three weeks ago she developed a lump on the side of her face. She was put on antibiotics under the assumption that it was an abscess, a common and highly treatable rat ailment not unlike an acne cyst. The lump did not respond to the drugs, in fact it continued to get worse, and at her recheck with the vet the lesion was diagnosed as likely cancerous and that it was spreading deeper and deeper into the tissue. At her recheck yesterday, the vet determined that the lesion was now eating away at her jawbone and that it would be best to let her go.
Like I said, I’m not so much sad at Genevieve’s passing as I am angry that a rat who had come so far and gained so much had it all taken away. I’m angry that Samwise is alone now (although once he’s done grieving he’ll be introduced to Steele, Milton, Rupert, and Phineas, so he won’t be alone for long.) Gigi deserved better, and I’m angry that modern veterinary medicine and I weren’t able to give her better. Sleep well, pretty lady. Mama loves you.
