Sleep Tight Little Dodger

Yesterday we had to make one of the hardest decisions it's possible to make as pet owners; we said goodbye to our incredible little Dodger rat.

As I posted last week, he'd not really been himself for a couple of days. A little quiet, a little more sleepy, his breathing was a little more noisy than usual. He's always been a frail little guy so we kept an eye on it.

And sure enough, he started with the head tilt and the wobbling. So on Wednesday it was to the vet for antibiotics.

He responded well at first. Had a second dose on Friday and seemed to be more like himself (at the Friday vet appointment he let the vet examine him, then took himself back into the carrier before she could give him the injection, it was like he was saying 'okay, you've seen me, let's go now'). But that night he seemed to take a turn for the worse and went back to wobbling more than ever.

By Sunday night he was looking very sorry for himself and we began to question whether he would make it to Monday's appointment. And on Monday morning? He was trying to pull himself up on the bars of the cage.

It was at this appointment he got another dose of antibiotics but the vet mentioned that we might be looking at a pituitary tumour. I looked this up after the appointment and all his symptoms fell into place for me.

The head tilt, the slightly bulging right eye (due to intracranial pressure), the difficulty he was showing grasping with his front paws, the head bumping when you touched his head, the teeth grinding (like a happy rat bruxing but somehow different).

We'd scheduled the next vet appointment for Tuesday to see how he was getting on but that night Mr Click and I discussed it and decided that we would see what the vet said, but the time had probably come to say goodbye and let Dodger slip away with some dignity.

That night I begged Dodger to just go to sleep. I know he hated trips to the vet and having injections and I would have so rather he'd just slipped away peacefully in his sleep surrounded by the warm comforting bodies of his brothers.

But Dodger was stubborn and kept fighting right to the end. My sweet little soul.

By Tuesday morning it was clear we were making the right decision. He was making himself sore with this obsessive face rubbing and he either drew blood with it, or had bitten the inside of his mouth or tongue and made it bleed. He was mostly comfortable, lying down and resting, but he'd have these moments of energy where he'd walk round in circles, roll over and obsessively rub his face and mouth. It was kinder to say goodbye.

It's been a long time since I've had a pet put to sleep and while it's never going to be a pleasant experience, I can't fault the vet for the way they treated us.

As soon as we were called in I said I thought it was the pituitary tumour and that it was time to let Dodger go. The vet took one look at Dinky Dodge lying there, agreed with me, and walked us through what would happen next. Then he realised he'd been facing the computer as he was talking and turned round to apologise to Mr Click (who relies heavily on lipreading) for not facing him while he spoke. It's such a minor thing but it made me feel like we were really cared for.

First there was a very strong sedative injection, which Dodger was not too happy about, but which took effect quickly. As he wasn't comfortable being held before this, we'd left him in the carrier, but once it took effect we were able to lift him out onto his towel. And for the first time in days he looked relaxed. He even did that thing that sleepy rats do where they stretch out their back legs and the stretch goes right to the end of their tail. It was at that moment that I truly knew we were doing right by the little guy.

After a few minutes the vet topped up the sedative to make sure Dodger was properly out of it. There was no rush; there was a waiting room of people to be seen but we took our time and let Dodger take his. Tissues were handed round. We cried.

And then the final injection was administered. We told Dodger we loved him, kept stroking him, and the vet checked his heartbeat a couple of times until he had definitely gone.

I'm so sad that there wasn't anything else we could do to save him, but I'm pleased we were able to give him the most peaceful and dignified end possible under the circumstances.

Dodger might only have been a little over a year old but he crammed so much life into the twelve months we had with him. I suspect that if we'd not have adopted him he may well have succumbed to the ear infection he got at eight weeks; at the time we didn't expect him to last the weekend, instead we got roughly 50 weekends with him.

I miss him so much already.

The way he was always so desperate to come out, to the point where he'd climb onto the door so when you opened it he'd automatically be out, whether you wanted him to be or not.

The way he'd still popcorn at the age of a year, even though he should have grown out of it months ago. The others all treated him like a baby rat so he was allowed to try flipping them and they just let him get on with it.

The way he could polish off a handful of Cheerios within minutes of them being placed in the cage. Considering how tiny he was, it was amazing how he could put food away.

The way he would climb up onto my foot and stretch up my leg to ask to be held when we were letting them free range in the bathroom. This would invariably be followed by me lifting him up and using him as a microphone while singing and dancing to whatever we were listening to.

He was cheeky, full of character and has left a tiny rat shaped hole in our hearts.

Sleep tight little guy.