"Frankenstein's not a good name for a singer. It doesn't even sound Italian."

My rat, Frankie Frankenstein, died this morning. Sad, but not unexpected. Old age hit him hard and suddenly. One day he was this big ol' fat thing, scampering around his cage with his treats in his mouth (I never understood why he felt the need to take anything we gave him on a walk before he hate it, but it was a lot of fun to watch him deal with a taco shell), and the next, he was a fragile, skinny little thing.

It kind of took me by surprise because of all my rats (Frankie was my 5th), Frankie was probably the healthiest. I don't think he so much as had a cold. The first time I remembered him not ever feeling well was just before he started going downhill. And he went downhill fast. But still managed to last four days longer than any of us thought he would. Tenacious little shit to the end.

I think I'm going to be done with rats for awhile. It seems like after Frodis (I admit it, he was my fave), I got increasingly more detattched from them. The last three I had, I really didn't handle them much and really didn't interact with them as much as I did the first two. So, I think that maybe I'm going to refrain from getting another one for a good long while.

I'm going to miss getting rat kisses, though.