Yesterday, after a sanctimonious day involving “hangovers just aren't me anymore” self-speech, I went to pick up Chad. He might be small, he might be a rat, but he's my boy. Fuck, God knows everyone else hates his tail. But he's my pet.
And he was sick. I found him to be slightly cold body-temperature wise, and not running around, rather dragging himself across his cage and burrowing into my hair and remaining there because he has lost all his energy.
Then, after a long day he gave up and died. Chad went and died on me yesterday. Fuck man.
Timely. Like all things these days.
Rest in peace my little rodent.