That escalated quickly.

The Mayor of the City of Townsville, aka Mr. Mayor, has gone to Rat Heaven.

He was the picture of health, right up until he wasn’t. He had a stroke or some similar neurological event sometime last Wednesday night. I was putting some veggies in the cage on Thursday morning and he didn’t even stick his head out of his Kleenex box to see what was up. He didn’t even move. I scritched the little bit of furry rat butt that was sticking out of a chewed-out “window” on the box--still nothing.

When I shifted the box to get him to move, I ended up sort of pouring him out of it.

I put him on the floor to see what he’d do. His back end wasn’t working, but he could army-crawl. Okay, a couple of options for possible causes there. He kept falling to one side, though, and one of his eyes was slightly-but-still-noticeably bulged out. Definitely some sort of quick onset brain thing. I was on my way out the door to work, and since he was peppy and alert, I moved some things in the cage to accommodate him and called the vet on the way to the office. Of course, they were fully booked and couldn’t get him in that day or the following, so my next step was to contact the lady who runs the rescue where I adopt my squeakers. She confirmed that I was likely correct in my (admittedly pat) diagnosis and told me to buy some children’s ibuprofen. I followed her instructions and dosed him appropriately when I got home. We then had a lovely, snuggly evening together on the sofa. He was still trying to move around, was breathing normally, was as alert and interested in his surroundings as he was usually, and was grooming even though it was difficult with what was now one whole side of him not working properly.

I’m really grateful we had that time together.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of him having what looked like seizures. He couldn’t do anything but roll from one side to the other by flailing in a way which looked supremely uncomfortable. His breathing was labored, he had no color in his nose or paws and the one eye that had been just a bit bulged before was now very noticeably more prominent than the other.

I got him settled comfortably on a woobie while I showered and got dressed as quickly as I could, and after sending a quick text to the office to let them know I’d be late, Mr. Mayor and I went to the emergency vet.

I called in from the car--they’re still very wisely taking virus precautions--and while we waited for the tech to come get him and take him inside, we had one last snuggle. He was still seizing on and off, and he couldn’t move, and breathing was hard, but I held him and talked to him and gave him all the kisses and scritches even though I’m pretty sure he wasn’t 100% there. He did have a couple of still, calm moments, and he bruxed (made the ‘happy rat noise’) through those, so at least I know he was appreciative of the attention even though he was likely scared and uncomfortable, to say the least.

He was my little success story. He was afraid of everything when he came to live with me, but I gave him the time and space that he needed to get used to me, and once he was comfortable he became the most affectionate little critter you could imagine.

I was looking forward to so much more time with him.