My Pet Rats (w/ Illustrations)

I've often told my friends and family that I own the most cowardly pet rats in the world. I still firmly believe this is the case. It's not that they're stupid - they're not the brightest rats I've ever owned, but I've seen them figure enough stuff out that I know they're not dumb by rat standards. No, it's purely a matter of cowardice.

Most pet rats bond with their owner rather quickly - but with Othello and Iago, it was like pulling teeth... A tremendously slow spiral of increasing trust. It was literally months before they learned that it's safe to approach me during play time, even if I'm busy doing something else.

But even beyond their interactions with me, they still get frightened of just about anything. Particularly strange noises - "strange" being defined very loosely. At one point, Othello completely freaked out at the crinkly sound a plastic bag was making while he was in the midst of walking over it.

An object that's out of place - or that they're not used to seeing - is enough to make them wary. This goes for objects that I happen to be holding, in fact, and they're still getting used to the idea that even when I'm doing unfathomable things I'm safe for them to be around.

And yet, despite this fear of strange objects and situations, once we started to make friends one of the first things they decided it was safe to explore was the interior of my mouth.

 

When they started doing this, they were still at the point where any unexpected movement on my part was considered a potential threat.  Moving my hands too quickly?  Oh, no!  But apparently sticking their heads in my mouth was a-ok.

I'm still trying to figure out how any animal, domesticated or not, could develop that as a survival instinct.

Despite their mutual cowardice, Othello and Iago are almost as different from one another as their Shakespearean namesakes.  Othello is the explorer - the better climber and jumper, and always the first to overcome his fear (however briefly) to look around something new.  Iago, on the other hand, is more curious about people.  They terrify him, make no mistake, but he can't help but spend a lot of his time trying to figure out what these big pink-fleshed ape-things are going to do next.

Another example of the contrast in their personalities is the way they handle treats.  Othello is a pretty typical rat in this regard - show him some food, and he'll cautiously approach it in an effort to establish its status as food...  And then he'll quickly snatch it away and run off to devour it in peace, lest someone catch on to his diabolical scheme of taking the food he was offered.

Like I said, that's pretty typical for rats.  But Iago's very different - in fact, he's fairly unique in my experience in this respect.  He's quite slow and careful in taking food from me, as if he were trying to make absolutely sure that yes, it really is okay for him to take what I'm offering.

Sometimes he'll sit there looking at me upwards of a full minute, the food in his mouth, reluctant to actually start eating...  Maybe he's afraid he's going to offend me or something if he chows down.  Or maybe he's worried that the whole thing is a bureaucratic mistake and he wants to give me a chance to correct it before he passes the point of no return.

I dunno.  But I find it kind of weird.