Garson

Garson my New/Old Cuddlebug - Dec 2009 to April 6 2012

Garson and Simcoe, were rats being rehomed by a “friend” of a LA's. She had been trying to get this girl to let these poor rats go for awhile, so when the opportunity arose we pounced on it. LA met us on a long trip home last June from the real Rat Shack waaaay up north. With a few false starts (who knew how many Tim Hortons there were in Midland, ON :lol:) we finally found her and Esamae. There was 3 boys in a Rat Resort, with no shelves. There was 2 big himilayans and a smallish black Berkshire. We were told the himi’s were younger and the black berk was much older (we were never given their names of course). The black berk who was 2, was so sick you could feel the URI and his breathing when you touched him. The himi brothers were supposed to be 18 months but seemed older and were very scared.

I named the black berk Alfie (just cause) and the 2 himi’s Simcoe (big northern lake in Ontario) and Garson (a northern city). Garson was more timid, but seemed sweeter and more passive.


and he posed sooo pretty too!


Then the real fun began as Simcoe started harassing and rat-balling with his brother and Aflie. Poor Alfie was getting quite cutup, so I removed him and gave him new gentler friends later on with the RTR’s and the girls. After this Simcoe settled down, and he and Garson just lived their own way. Sadly they continued to hold extreme fear of me, and Out time was often a very frightening experience for Garson, which often had a lot of fear poop. I interacted with them outside the cage less and less and it was a bit better, but when I saw a large tumour growing on Garson’s side and he got a URI we could never get rid of, my heart sank. Still the 2 boys wanted as little to do with me as possible. Finally Garson got to the point a few months ago, where if I ignored him, he would come up to me on the bed and lean on me, but if I looked at him or tried to touch him he would scuttle off. He often had to have his body covered up to find this bravery. 



Finally when his tumour got so big and he was so old, I decided one more effort, and this time I force-socialized the poor lad. I put him on my chest, and scratched where he couldn’t reach, rubbed itchy ears, got frantic licks in return all the while he’s trying to pull away from me. After this I let him go and think about it all. Well he must’ve really thought hard about it, because soon after that he wanted to be on or near me ALL the time, I got a couple of days of this lovely bruxxing cuddlebug. So gentle, loved to lie around my neck and sleep overnight.



But I had these niggling thoughts, was that hard headbump just a “get off of me” or was it involuntary? Was he knuckling his paws? Was he….and so on. But he seemed to be improving, so I tried not to worry.

Last night I had a feeling that I should have the boys out early. I found Garson lying on his back with his brother lying on him. I picked him up and found him weak and limp. Sigh. I was hoping for a lot longer with him.  He couldn’t sit upright and would slump into a sitting budha position, or would shove those stiff forelegs out front and have his nose resting on the ground with his head down. Late onset PT is my guess. I held him and cuddled him til his last breath at 2:15 am.


Sleep well little man.