How they've grown

Any long-time follower of my blog (and I know, there are very few of you out there) will remember that towards the end of last summer I wrote frequently about my three little Masters of Mischief. Their appearances in my blog since August, however, have been few and far between. Not because they've become boring-- on the contrary, they try one new scheme or another just about every day. Rather, they've become less frustrating. All of the things that really worried me, bothered me about their early growth (particularly their socialization) gradually faded away.

It's been an entire year now since I brought the boys home, and although I doubt they'll ever be cuddle bugs or be immediately comfortable around strangers, they've grown into the handsome bucks I'd always hoped they'd be. Apart from having chronic Mycoplasma pulmonis, a legacy of their pet store upbringing and feeder genetics, they've more or less come into their own. They come when they're called, they allow me to handle them in any and every way, and even tolerate the occasional snuggle. In short, they've ceased to become a worry and have become just as much an integral part of my life as the girls that came before them.

Archer is my little mink-- crafty, quick, and easily offended. He squeaks. A lot. He squeaks when he doesn't want to be touched, when I remove him from something he finds particularly interesting, when someone tries to steal his food, when one of his brothers looks at him the wrong way. Of the brothers, he is the least sociable. He picks fights and power grooms. A snuggle with him must be obtained through ambush, easiest when he's sleepy or has just finished eating a particularly tasty treat. That's a piece of dried papaya (AKA "rat crack") he's holding.

Bokeh is my squishy bear, the sweetheart of the bunch. He's mellow, easy-going, and always seems to be smiling. He's the biggest of the three, but like the gentle giant, he rarely fights. He's most content curled up somewhere soft and warm, sleeping. He never fails to come when called, and rarely causes trouble. He's also adorable.

Rizado is my little right-hand man. He's always curious about what I'm up to, and has taken to stretching out next to me in the evenings for lengthy stroking sessions. He's the most cuddly of the three, and tolerates handling best. His brothers pick on him a lot, which may have contributed to his primary talent: He's an escape artist-- a tiny, cunning ninja. He's foiled just about every one of my attempts to keep him contained. It started with him pushing the food bowls out of the cage, popping the wire latches, and has progressed from there. He has a 3'4" vertical and can climb just about anything. 

There really isn't any way for me to determine their age. I imagine they were somewhere between eight and ten weeks old when I got them, which would make them somewhere around a year and a quarter now. They're at or nearing middle-age! The worst part about having rats is their short life span. Luckily, there are plenty of best parts to make it all worth it.