For the Love of Petey
Several years back, my grandson Brandon called me on the phone. He was beside himself with excitement and had extraordinary news to share. "Grandma! Guess what Mom got me!” "What,” I answered, thinking maybe it was a new toy or kid gadget. "A pet rat," was the unanticipated response. "Yikes!” I cringed to myself. ”Oh no! How could she!” I was incensed. Brandon went on even more thrilled "and guess what I named him! Petey" he exclaimed, "because he has one black eye like Petey in the Little Rascals." Petey was the white bull terrier in Our Gang Comedy Series filmed in the 1930 era. Brandon was quite a Little Rascals fan. "Wait till you see him Grandma. He's real cute! I'll let you hold him." I would rather see the dentist than the white rat he spoke of. I would rather take the needle when I saw the dentist than hold the rat. "Brandon, I don’t like rats. I'm afraid of them," I stated diplomatically. "That is nice you have a pet. Be careful with him," I cautioned. "Let me talk to your mom."
When my daughter took the phone I let her have it. "Whatever possessed you to go out and buy a rat for Brandon?" It seemed incredulous to believe I was even having this conversation. "He's going to get a disease from that dirty thing. Don't you know they are big-time germ carriers?" My daughter, Kelly, had found a button to push and she knew it. "Now Mom," she stated calmly, (I thought I heard a “smirk” in her voice) "Brandon needs to learn responsibility and rats are wonderful pets! I got it free from a friend at work." "The cat is gong to kill it," I warned. "It is going to be a big traumatic thing when it happens too. Don't you know it is asking for trouble bringing a rat into the house where there's a cat?" As we ended our conversation, despair surrounded me. Two days later I drove to Vallejo to pick up Brandon for a weekend visit and met Petey. Brandon came toward me the rat. "Here Grandma…pet him." Brandon lifted the rodent toward my face. Petey squinted at me, wiggled his nose and mouth, and swished his long hairless tail around Brandon's wrist. I backed off. My daughter's boyfriend Greg, watched and teased. "Hey Grandma. What's wrong. Pet him. He's nice," "Get that rat away from me right this minute Brandon," I snapped. "Come on now. Put him back so we can get on the road to Vacaville. Let's go!" "I'm taking Petey to your house with me," Brandon stated resolutely. "Petey stays here," I responded. "If Petey can't come I'm not going." Brandon was defiant at this point. I phoned his mom at work for back-up support "Kelly, tell him the rat stays home." "Well Mom,” she stated, “if he wants Petey to go he should go too." I was very disgusted at the lack of assistance and obvious gloating that was going on.
There was a definite power struggle going three against one with a little sadistic undertone directed toward Grandma. I'd show them! I gingerly picked up the glass aquarium that housed Petey. The rat looked up at me and bobbed his head up and down as I jostled him to the car and placed him in the back seat. "I can't believe this," I thought to myself. This is ridiculous. Greg chuckled at the door as he waved goodbye. I made Brandon ride up front with me, even though he wanted to sit by Petey in the back. "You'll get to fooling with that rat and it will distract my driving and we'll all get killed. You sit up front." Fear of death got Brandon's attention. Petey burrowed himself in his bedding and curled up in a ball of white rat fur.
We arrived in Vacaville safely. For a rat, Petey was a decent houseguest. I threw my cat Junior outside for the weekend. A bloody massacre would have pushed me over the edge. Petey had a tendency to void when handled by his seven-year-old novice master. I felt sorry for Petey, even if he was a rat. He couldn't help it he had those creepy claws for feet and that snake like tail. He was obviously the victim in this scenario as much as I was. We all managed to survive each others company that week-end, and I shuddered a bit after dropping boy and rat off at their abode on Sunday evening. I hoped the new would wear off soon and Petey would not be part of a package deal next time on visits to grandma’s.
I spoke on the telephone with Brandon regularly and began a pattern of asking after Petey's well being; did he have food and water and how was he doing? "Oh Petey's wonderful Grandma! He's right here. Listen!" Brandon would hold Petey up to the phone. One evening I stopped by the apartment to see my daughter and Brandon's one year old sister Kristy came toddling out of the bedroom holding Petey by the skin of his back. "Look at her Mom. I swear she holds that rat like he was a suitcase." There was Petey just staring straight ahead afraid to move looking like the loose skin on his back was indeed a suitcase handle. "Get him," I yelled. "She's going to kill him."
"Poor Petey", I thought. Kelly took Petey away from Kristy and put him in his glass house. I grabbed his water bottle and filled it and tossed a chocolate chip cookie into his bedding. He attacked it with a hearty appetite and nibbled gratitude's my way. He was obviously a junk food junkie like the rest of the household.
I suppose a turning point for me, somehow, with Petey took place on a late Sunday afternoon when I was driving Brandon back home. We passed a cemetery near his home where his other grandma was buried. I reminded Brandon, who was too young to remember, how important he was to his other grandma. I told him he had been a shy baby, but a couple weeks before she had her fatal car accident, he had crawled up on her lap and made her very happy. Brandon was quiet for a moment then softly spoke with deep feeling the words, "Grandma, I sure hope Petey lives as long as I do." I felt myself wanting to cry. "Oh honey," I said, "little boys are suppose to have a longer lifetime than pet rats. I hope you grow up to be an old man. Remember, you have to drive Grandma to the doctor and grocery store someday when she's old." Again he was quiet, then spoke seriously, "But I don't want Petey to die." "Neither do I Sweetheart", I responded. "I like Petey. I like Petey a lot too. If you take good care of him he should be around for a long time."
I dropped Brandon off, checked on Petey, threw a piece of Craft processed cheese into his cage from the fridge, and hit the road for home. As I drove the interstate to Vacaville I knew how much the little white creature with the black spot over one eye meant to my grandson. I began to think about touching Petey. I heard the words inside my brain, "Come on Grandma, pet him. He's nice". Petey wasn't just nice. He was a cherished friend as well as a pet. I found myself, more and more, thinking of Petey and my grandchildren collectively. Now when I spoke with my daughter on the phone I would ask, "Does Petey have water and food. Is anyone being mean to Petey?” I was the self appointed RPS aka Rat Protective Service. Once when I called and mentioned water for Petey I got an "Oh thanks for reminding me. I was going to give him water. I almost forgot," from my daughter.
Near Valentine's Day I was looking at cards for the kids. One was from a secret admirer. It had a cat on it. It said, "someone is watching you and thinks you're nice." I bought the card and mailed it to you know who, care of Brandon. "Hey Grandma! Petey got a Valentine," Brandon reported when I called. "Does he like it", I asked. With enthusiasm in his voice Brandon stated, "Yeah…he thinks it's great."
Petey showed up in my dreams one night. I called my daughter. "Hey Kelly! Last night I dreamed Petey was flying around the room very slowly." We both laughed and wondered if maybe Petey was an angel sent in the form of a white rat to be with Brandon, who at times, as an active boy, seemed to need an angel. Brandon found a new way to make me laugh. He would show me how Petey looked when he held him on his back and looked down at him face to face. He'd look real innocent and hold very still, putting his hands up like little claw paws. "Awwwwhhhhh", I'd say, then give him a big hug. "Petey! You are sooooo sweet." We'd both smile after he pretended to be Petey.
I knew the day was coming. I could feel it in the tips of my fingers and in my heart, when I would do what I knew with all my heart and soul from my first memory I would never do, and that was pet a rat. It finally happened and I lived. Brandon beamed. Petey blinked in disbelief, or maybe because he just needed to blink. I scratched his little head. Apparently the incident went unnoticed by my daughter, who was watching television at the time, but in its own way it was a sacred moment.
I was told by someone who is suppose to know these things that love and fear are great motivators of courage, and it was because Brandon loved Petey so much and I loved him that I was able to perform this great feat. Several weeks later, I was returning my granddaughter back home after a weekend visit and Greg was on the couch babysitting when I got there. As I put Kristy down to run off to play, I walked over to Petey's cage, lifted the lid, and gave him a pet. "His hair is coarse like a dog's," I said. "He looks a little skinny. Is he sick". Greg responded in a patronizing tone of tolerance; "No Grandma, he's just sleeping. If he gets sick we'll have him looked at". I looked in the fridge for something for Petey and all I saw was chocolate cup cakes. I broke the bread part off of one and tossed it in his cage. Petey woke up enough to smell the chocolate and proved himself to be a junk food junkie one more time. I said good-bye and left for the trip up the highway.
I went to the library and ordered a book on rat care written for children. That night I got a phone call from my daughter. "Greg says you touched Petey", she reported. It was now my turn to smirk. No more Petey Power over Grandma. It must have been an interesting discussion. I smiled to myself. My daughter told Greg that she suspected I now had another grandchild. It was from that day on that I laughed and began to refer to Petey as my "grandrat". When the library book arrived I discovered that rats have special vitamin enriched pellets they are supposed to eat along with a healthy diet. Petey had been eating gerbil food. Bad. I went to Petco and paid four dollars for a bag of the real vitamin enriched thing for my "grandrat", Petey. Kelly and the kids came by and I gave Brandon his book. He read all the good vegetables off Petey should have, which I pointed out were also good for him as well. I gave him the bag of pellets for Petey.
Kelly brought up the fact that the people who gave them Petey said he ate Big Macs from McDonalds and hotdogs. "Don't you think that's a bad idea to give a rat things like that?" she asked a little squeamish. "I mean aren't they suppose to not eat meat?" I knew what she was getting at. "You mean he might become a Willard?" It was my turn to use Petey power tactics. "Yeah,” she said, and looked a little green. We said our good-byes at the door and I felt better knowing Petey had more educated owners and food to keep him healthy.
Thirty minutes later the phone rang. It was Kelly. I asked if Petey got his new food and she was happy to report that he was carrying pellets to different areas of his bedding and stashing them. Brandon got on the phone. "Hey Grandma…Petey loves his new food. He's crazy about it." "I'm glad Honey", I said. "I love you. I love Petey too." "I love you too Grandma. Petey loves you too."
The little boy voice on the other end of the phone was full of sweetness. I hung up the phone. It was a precious moment in its own way. I had transcended in conquering my fear of Petey. What was once repulsive to my eyes was now seen as endeared through my heart. And for the love of Petey I had become a better human being.
Note: Petey died July 3, 1999, but lives on in the hearts of those who loved him. I got my own lovable little “ratboy” Rudy, who was featured in living color in The Reporter on November 26, 2000 entitled “Oh Rats!”. Never say “never”. Life is full of surprises!
Jennifer Grant