Earlier this spring, I was at a county animal shelter where there was a critter not listed on the shelter’s online adoptables: a chubby black-and-white rat (marked like a skunk in reverse, with a black stripe down his back) who came out of his hidey-hole to come and visit with me. I definitely had to inquire about this little guy, but let’s just say they were shocked that he had an adoption inquiry. The shelter manager was so disgusted by the rat that she offered to give him — and his nice, two-story cage — to me for free.
His backstory was that he was kept by a guy at a group home, who left the rat when he left the home. So I thought of good inmate names to give him — I’ve been calling him Red, a la The Shawshank Redemption. He’s 2 years old, so he won’t be around much longer, but he’ll get spoiled in the meantime. He’s obviously aged, as well — his fur is coarse and scrungy, and he prefers a nap to much running action (he makes really clear he prefers his cage to anywhere else).
(Oh, and he has a nose, just moved for the shot)