the escape attempt

We keep rats at home. So-called "fancy rats", to be clear. Sometimes people seem to think I mean feral rats. shrug

We have five ratties at the moment: Kizzy, Kaylee, Bear, Bert and Ernie. We've just introduced them. Bert and Ernie, being the most recent arrivals, were kept seperately until this week. As a result, they're in a smaller space than they're used to; the method we use for introductions involves putting them all together in a tiny carrier and gradually increasing cage sizes from there. This forces them to sort their shit out and establish a rough pecking order. Somewhat counter-intuitively, it also minimises serious injuries—the worst wounds tend to be tears, and they tend to happen when one rat is fleeing, which is more difficult in a small space.

More specifically, the smaller space is a little blue hamster cage which we use as a hospital cage. It has a different closing mechanism to our other cages. Generally, cages for rats come with some kind of clasp to keep the door shut. This one, though, is shut by the expedient of a simple bent loop of wire at the top of the door. The loop is level with one of the bars of the cage, but dips in a downwards arc, so that when you press it into place, it bends the bar down and then snaps shut.

We've not had any trouble with it before, but a couple of nights ago I was ordered out of bed to investigate a troubling noise. Assuming this was just one of the rabbits dicking about, I got up to check on them, grumbling and bleary-eyed. The rabbits were nonplussed; nothing appeared to be amiss. I was about to head back to bed, when I glanced over at the rat cage.

Ernie was on top of it. "That doesn't seem right", I thought. It took me a couple of seconds to register that the door was open. "Ah". I put him back in the cage, much to his chagrin. The newcomers are friendly, but they don't love being picked up. Wriggly bastards.

Bert and Bear were AWOL. Kizzy and Kaylee, usually the root cause of mischief, were sitting in the cage angelically. It has been suggested to me that this was an elaborate attempt by the two girls to frame their cage-mates for a crime they committed. I wouldn't put it past them.

The hospital cage was balanced on a slightly larger grey cage (the next one they'll be upgraded to, assuming they behave (lol)). This larger cage was, for lack of any better ideas as to the rats' temporary living arrangements, plonked on the rug in our kitchen/living room, just next to the end of our kitchen counter. As I pondered the rats criminal tendencies, I noticed a small brown shape bound towards me across said rug. That was Bear, then. He probably thought I was bringing him food. It wouldn't shock me if he fell off the cage onto the floor and was relieved that someone had come to rescue him. He's never been the most athletic of rats, and I doubt he fancied the climb back up the grey cage.

Bear rescued, I finally noticed a small shape moving up on the kitchen counter. How on earth Bertie got up there is beyond me. He was investigating yet another rat cage which sits up there—this one his and Ernie's erstwhile home. He was clearly quite invested in his explorations, because he clung on for dear life when I tried to put him back in the hospital cage with the rest of them. Much gentle prising and not-so-gentle wriggling later, I had all 5 rats safely returned to their home.

I spent a good while trying to devise a sensible mechanism to keep them in the cage, as I didn't trust them not to repeat these antics. I settled for using one of the oversized paperclips we use to fasten their hammocks to the cage as an impromptu crossbar, hooking it through the troublesome wire loop. I was quite satisfied with this solution—it had a lot less give than my previous use of the clip as a chain to the edge of the door.

So that was that. All in all, no one got hurt and everyone learned something. Probably.

-- ouro, 2022-11-17