#foster pets

I currently have five pet rats—three girls and two recently neutered boys—four of whom I adopted through MRR. They are truly an incredible organization, and it was an honor to work with them in the past as both a foster and a background checker.

It was really, really hard when my mental health interfered with my ability to foster. After a severe episode, I was forced to stop. During a pet drop-off at the current director’s house, I told her—nearly in tears—that I couldn’t foster any more rats for a while. She was obviously very nice about it and said to take as much time as i need. She also mentioned that several litters had just come in, knowing I was especially interested in caring for baby rats, and ever since then I’ve been itching to get back into fostering.

I still have two large cages stored in my basement for the rescue. I even have a designated rat room down there that I furnished specifically for them. Seeing that room empty breaks my heart, especially knowing that at one point I was housing up to twelve rats under my roof.

Rats are such special little creatures. I know they carry a stigma—I face it every time I tell someone I have pet rats—but none of that stops me. Who cares what other people think? Certainly not my rats. So why let unfounded opinions about my pets stop me from continuing to help these amazing animals?

They are incredibly intelligent—honestly, it’s a little scary. Since getting the boys, I’ve learned that squeaking is a learned behavior. The boys squeak a lot: when they’re talking to each other, talking to me, when they’re upset, or even when they’re delighted. My girls, who've barely made noise their entire lives, are now squeaking more than ever. It’s a bit unsettling to realize that my rats are smart enough to learn a new form of communication just by hearing another rat do it. (They've never actually interacted yet)

They’ve learned tricks, figured out which kind of begging works best on new people, and helped me through some of my darkest times. When I look at them now—their cage is in my room—I often catch myself thinking I’m a bad rat owner. That my enclosure isn’t enough, that I don’t handle them enough, etc. But my vet and my friends have reassured me time and time again that this isn’t true, and that my rats are happy and healthy.

Still, my mental health makes me doubt my capabilities and often convinces me that I’m neglecting them. That fear has held me back from returning to fostering. I hope that, in time, I’ll be able to see my efforts clearly without the constant cloud of doubt hanging over me. I hope that by my birthday next year (April), I’ll be able to start fostering again.

Until then, I’ll help in other ways—talking about the rescue, supporting their fundraisers, drawing portraits, sharing posts, and making donations. Even if I can’t, as one person, save every rat in need, this rescue is saving hundreds of rats every year, and I’m proud to support that in any way I can.