My happy thought for the past two weeks has been little rat feet.
We recently took in a transfer of four baby rats at the shelter. They’re teeny and sweet and inquisitive and perfect and my heart just melts into a big puddle of syrupy joy any time I get anywhere near them.
For the general protection of the animals, we’re not allowed to take photos of them, but they basically look like this, white socks and all:
I could watch them scamper around and twitch their bitty whiskers all day. I don’t, because there are dishes to wash and litter boxes to scour and endless mounds of laundry to cycle through, but the temptation is there.
They love to lick my fingers. They nibble at my nails and my rings. And when their curiosity emboldens them enough to step onto my hand with their little rat feet- oh! those little rat feet give me life.
To anyone who’s not a fan of rats or has never handled one, this probably sounds really weird. I myself can’t even really put a finger on why it’s such a neat sensation. Maybe it’s the delicacy of their tiny toes, or the astonishing way they can grip onto nearly anything like Velcro. Maybe it’s the way their feet run slightly cool in contrast to their warm furry bodies. Whatever it is, it’s magical. 5/5, would recommend.
Sadly for me (but happily for the rats), our time together is likely to be short-lived. Two of the four have already found a home, and I’m sure the other two will follow suit in no time. They’re way too adorable not to get scooped up by someone.
I’ll miss them when they’re gone but I’m sure the kitties, who I usually spend the most time with when I’m not distracted by impossibly cute baby rodents, will be happy to have my full attention back in their absence.