Grah, my Vroobert has a huge lump under his front leg. He has an appointment on Monday afternoon. He will of course have it removed because I refuse to leave it and have his walking hindered. The Uncles are going as well, for a check up. My boys turned 23 months this past Thursday and I am planning a wonderful cake for June, something fancy and extra special. Two means alot for rats and their day will be special. I have already ordered their gifts, special cage accessories for them.

My cage is quiet most afternoons, they spend the day sleeping. Tiny yawns and barely opened eyes greet me in from work. They will of course rise to the occassion if I have a treat or pick them up. One at a time, so warm and fuzzy, they smell slightly of musk..a bit pissy as boys are want to be. Each a prince, regal in his own way as he is is inspected and lovingly cuddled. Fergus is as limber as a doll, Hector laying on his back as I tickle tiny toes. Wembles in his kingly way grumbles, but is generous in patience as I look for any new lumps or bumps. Boo grins in his wild way, Urn and Fes always plotting a way out of body checks. My pumpkin baby tolerates his checks with indifference and the occassional squeal of protest, how dare a mere human suggest he is less than perfect. Vroo, such an easy boy, so kind and loving. What else is there to do but give himself over lovingly to my searching hands.

I am a humble servant to these little men, always waiting to cater to each whim. They amuse me greatly and often bring me to tears of worry and frustration. I feel useless against the march of time and I can do little but watch them age and grow older.