Looking Back presents episode 13.
I once had a pet rat. It was my sophomore year in college. The dorm had a strict rule about pets which was you were not permitted to have any pets. This rat was a leftover from the pet store having outgrown the cute stage and gotten too big for snake food. He was free with any rodent chow purchase. I wasn’t prepared to be responsible for another living creature. For the first week he lived in a cardboard copy paper box. He chewed his way out. Then I managed to rig a home-made Habitrail using 2 liter pop bottles, 20 ounce bottles, and a 2 gallon plastic ice cream bucket. I had it set up under my bed and around my desk. He didn’t spend a lot of time in his house since he was usually riding in my pocket, the hood of my sweatshirt, or curled in my lap. I didn’t want to get attached but it was inevitable. He even came to lectures with me sometimes. I had no idea that rats only live a couple years. It was a shock when I found him dead, curled up in his nest of hair scrunchies and Kleenex. I promised myself I’d never get another pet. I broke that promise several times. I cried when they died. My psychologist seemed to think that was a positive sign. She is still waiting for me to mourn my parents. I don’t think that will ever happen.