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mylittleredgirl ([personal profile] mylittleredgirl) wrote2006-08-14 11:35 am
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Baby Blues

In yesterday's edition of the rat diary... Lela was pissed at me for sticking her in a glass condo, Ezri was pissed at baby daddies who want to take the kids to the zoo but don't pay child support, and Ezri's mysterious baby #13 was pissed at all of us that we forgot to count her the first time. Gira was pissed that I couldn't stop talking about rat baby names until I locked her on the porch and forced her to listen. I was pissed at my cold, which made me fall asleep before I could post this.





Your Accusations Are Meaningless In The Face Of My Cuteness! Porthos gets a little too close to Ezri's cage and she starts hissing and squawking about how he can't show up now after he was too busy exploring the muffin crumbs under the fridge to come and see her while she was birthing his young. Having no plates to throw, she starts flinging shavings at him. I decide intervention is wiser than taking a picture, and then punish Porthos by a flash bulb in the face.



You win this time, sequential numbers! In taking the daily mob shots of Ezri's litter, I can't help but notice that there are actually nine girls, not eight, bringing us to a total of 13 babies. I blame the fact that The Count on Sesame Street only used to count up to ten.



Are Functional Eyes Required For Lady Killing? Ezri's boys, two days old. Their skin is now less "sticky," according to Gira (meaning there will be the beginnings of baby fur in a few days), and the markings on their backs are more obvious, showing what patterns they will have. They all appear to be hooded. I say "damn," not because hooded rats aren't ridiculously cute, but because this means I'm going to require diagrams to keep them all straight.



But Boys Aren't Inherently Superior, Sam Carter. As I'm setting Lela's kittens up for their mob shot on a neighboring paper towel square, one of Ezri's boys makes an escape. CARPET OR BUST!


Tragically Missed Photo Opportunity #2: After this, Ezri grabbed one of her babies and started running through the apartment with it instead of taking it back to the nest. Gira and I follow her, shrieking "Stop! Stop! Stay out of the laundry closet!"



The Magnificent Seven. Lela's boys. Lela's litter is still more active than Ezri's. They're also ventriloquists -- despite the fact that they squeak constantly, and much louder than Ezri's brood, I'm always convinced it's birds outside.



Lela's girls, one day old.



Good Parents Don't Play Favorites, Sachi, but this little boy is the runt of Lela's litter, and my favorite of the day. Possibly because he's the only one whose markings haven't shown up yet, making it possible to distinguish him from the others -- I'll never say.



And People Said Slavic Studies Would Never Help Me With Anything. Lela makes a big dramatic show for about two hours of trying to dig out of the glass aquarium, pressing herself up against the cage for mercy, playing dead (I freaked out too much to take a photograph), and pressing on the cage top with her nose to try and spring herself from the aquarium until I piled books on top. I sympathize, because I think the latest Portland trend of building all-glass condo highrises is bizarre. Lela, not used to being ignored when she demands something, glowers at me for a good half-hour when I refuse to let her out again.



A Good Childhood Is The Building Block Of A Successful Life. Lela takes matters into her own hands, piling everything in the nest, shrieking babies included, into a ramp to aid in her quest for escape. Child labor laws never saw this one coming.

[Poll #795011]

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