Well, I had intended to finally resume Indie Penance yesterday, its magnificent return preceded by a fanfare of trumpet playing automatons and dancing rodents.

But alas, while I took a break from editing my good intentions were ground into dust. When passing our rat cage I spotted Moosey lying contorted in the corner. She was still alive, but had likely suffered a stroke or seizure, and instead of finishing a blog post I spent the afternoon cradling her while she slowly passed on.

Rats are odd little creatures. Highly destructive and seemingly indestructible, yet prone to all manner of horrible illnesses. They also do too good a job of hiding their frailty from us humans (and other rats). Moosey was bizarre even by rat standards, a bully and a nurturer from one moment to the next, and a clear victim of poor breeding. 19 months wasn’t a great age, but she had a good year or so with us and was clearly very happy for much of her far too short life.

I’ll bury the little cotton wool bud this Wednesday… then hopefully post the next Indie Penance.