I thought he broke his neck in a fall because he couldn't stand up, I freaked out, called a bunch of vets, took him to the animal hospital. Apparently it wasn't a fall, but a brain tumor. He was put down within 20 minutes. Poor little sweetie was so scared. :(
For those who thought this might be some kind of political statement, he wasn't named for any patriotic reasons, actually. "America" was a character (a horse personified by my sister Gira) in a play-pretend game we made up as kids. It wasn't patriotic then, either, we just really liked the word.
My gosh, I still have 21 rats, all except two the same age of Impending Rat Illness And Doom. How am I going to do this 21 more times? (Not to mention - how will I afford to?)
Also, Tessie bolted out the front door today and ran off. I found her after I heard all these cars and a bus honking at her, and had to chase her down. We live on a busy street. She didn't even seem scared, just obstinate and kept trotting away from me. (Which is weird for her. At our old house, she'd bolt through the door, notice we weren't coming along, and just turn around before she finished going down the stairs. But she has been an epic pain in the ass the past week or so, so maybe she's having some sort of bratty doggie teenagerhood.) Seriously, not doing so well on the pet front today.
When I feel like this, all heart-crushed, I think it's really hard to have pets. I think I shouldn't, sometimes, and envy people who can live without them -- but yeah. I need little furry things to love. And I do love them. And that's the problem, sometimes.