Rudypie: My Cutypie
one of the pictures of Rudy from the Vacaville Reporter
Meet the real Rudy; my furry little friend who stirred my imagination and inspired me to write my Rudy tales for children. He was an exceptional creature. His loyalty, incredible personality and social interaction surpassed that of any other pet I've ever had, and he was the smartest by far. Rudy once went on line while playing on my computer desk. Call it an accident or a fluke; the bottom line is the rat made it to the Microsoft homepage on his own. Rudy had a definite interest in the computer. In fact, he “ate up” anything he could get his paws on concerning them; speaker wires, telephone lines, monitor cords, the rubber roller wheel on the mouse. Rudy loved them all, much to the frustration of my “sweetie” and favorite computer “techie”, Chris, who repaired them. Rudy seemed to know it was time to burrow beneath the shredded paper in his cage when Chris came with his bag of spare parts and caste a suspicious, if not wary eye, in his direction.
Rudy was cool for many reasons. He knew his name and came like a puppy when I called him. He took an interest in everything I did, and appreciated my cooking. He was somewhat of a sportsman, and enjoyed riding in the car on my shoulder with his B-52 nose pointing front and center down the freeway. He was adventurous and game for rollerblading and ice-skating on my grandson Brandon’s shoulder. When the library had a costumed pet parade, I fashioned a little red cape for Rudy and he was Little Red Rattyhood. I dressed as Grandma in a long dress and ruffle cap. It was a kick! Rudy was on equal ground with the dogs in tucks and clown suits. On our warm summer evening walks he displayed an aptitude for politics, winning over a lot of curious strangers to the positive side of rats from his perch on my shoulder, and became a catalyst for conversations with young and old who had their own rat stories to tell, some of them mind-boggling. Even the tough guys hanging out on the streets with their Harleys liked Rudy. As I stated before, Rudy was cool.
One of the nicest things Rudy did in his time on earth was to bring me my wonderful friend Dawn, who has come to the champion of rescue rats in Birmingham, England. Dawn is featured as a character from the Land of Kings and Queens in “A Happily Ever After Kind of Day”. A brilliant nueropsychologist and a sensitive compassionate animal lover, Dawn wrote an article featured in the online rat magazine “Squeak” about Saul and Job, two rescue rats she won the trust of after a life of abuse. I had written a story in Squeak as well about my grandson’s rat Petey, and we began a correspondence about our mutual pets after I wrote her a commentary on her fascinating account. Dawn was enchanted by the stories of Rudy’s real life escapades, and upon receiving an invitation to come to California and meet both of us, she, brave soul that she was, put aside her much sympathized with phobias for flying and came the 6,000 miles. Rudy was immediately beguiled by Dawn, and I must admit, I felt a little abandoned, but it became a mutual admiration type of friendship between the beauty and the beast. While sitting on Dawn’s shoulder Rudy would glance my way out of the corner of his eye as if to say, “I simply can’t help it. She’s gorgeous,” and she truly was with her flawless English complexion and clear blue eyes. One of the tourist sites Dawn and I visited was the Jelly Belly Jellybean factory. Upon our arrival home, we discovered Rudy had a real thing for Jelly Belly Jellybeans.
While Dawn was with us, the local newspaper came out and did an article on Rudy, Dawn and myself, and how our friendship and meeting came about entitled, “Oh, rats!” with the subtitle; “Think of them as lovable and loyal, friends for life.” The photographer took about 40 pictures of Rudy. The winding sound of the automatic camera put Rudy in a temporary state of stress that left him immobile for several hours, to the horror of Dawn and myself, not to mention Rudy, so his great moment of fame almost did him in. A full-page article and a small caption of Rudy’s pointy profile on the front page of the Reporter were the payoff for pain and suffering. He was definitely a selling point for the promotion of his species. Rudy was politically correct and proud of it.
Every ten days of a human life is equal to a year of a rat’s, so old age comes quickly with rats and most don’t make it past two and a half. Losing Rudy was emotionally painful. He lingered several days. I took him warmly bundled in a towel to work with me at the library. Everyone was kind to him as he rested quietly by the computer, quite immobile, as books were being processed in the workroom. Danielle, a sunny teen employee, was especially sweet and would give Rudy a big “hi” and “how’s it going” several times an hour as he watched her check in books. When I worked the public desk, I placed Rudy in a little cubbyhole secreted from view, enabling me to keep an eye on him and smile his way as well as affording him the comfort of knowing he was not alone as his time to leave this world grew ever near. When he finally made the transition to the Rainbow Bridge, the mythological place good animals go that leads to heaven, Rudy was at home. It was a sad day. Friends were kind and offered sympathy. Dawn called from England. Email condolences were received. He was sorely missed.
The party wasn’t over quite yet for Rudy, even in death. He needed a sendoff. My grandkids and I decided to give him a funeral, and what a funeral it was to be. A funeral for Rudy introduced the rituals of death to my grandchildren as well. I didn’t want to bury Rudy in the backyard of my fourplex with a discarded air conditioner, broken oven and dismantled picnic table as part of his burial grounds, so my friend Ramona offered her lovely herb garden on a hillside site and even dug a hole while I was at work near the watchful eye of a statue of Buddha. I had always fancied Rudy as a foot washing Baptist as he was always cleaning his feet, but it was a peaceful setting and I don’t suppose he would have minded. A kind librarian offered a cardboard box from Lewis Comfort Tiffany’s jewelers in New York City as a coffin, and even added elegant wrapping paper with roses as a bonus. On my lunch hour from work I ran to the mall with the idea of purchasing a special rock at the nature store for a headstone and found instead a gorgeous brass lawn fairy embracing a rat. It was destiny. I have not seen one before or after like it. It was to be the grave marker. The kids and I got into the eulogy by comprising an inventory of good things about Rudy for the oratory, which I would read. The list went like this:
"Good things about Rudy"
1. He was very cute.
2. He liked Stuart Little and would squeak and stand on his hind legs when watching the movie.
3. He had a cute mouth. It was soft.
4. He was warm to hold.
5. Rudy helped us make friends, especially at school.
6. He had a nice tummy. It was beautiful.
7. His ears were soft and he could wiggle them.
8. His paws were beautiful.
9. He was smart and we loved him.
10. He drank his water and it was fun to watch.
11. He was fun to go for walks with.
12. Rudy was the best rat in the world
When the hour drew nigh, participants were lined up, including an albino rat named Ratticus. There were six people of various ages and sizes present and one rat, not including the deceased. In the Sweet Bye and Bye was sung in not so melodic chorus, but nonetheless sung, before the burial at the gravesite. As long as we were doing it big time, we did it really big time. Ramona’s husband Russ was a good sport and said he would play the sax in lieu of the traditional organ or piano for accompaniment when I asked at the last minute. He wasn’t exactly familiar with the song and hadn’t actually had time to practice it, but a joyful noise unto the Lord was made in celebration of a soul’s departure for glory, nonetheless. Candles placed sporadically on the hillside for the occasion flickered solemnly. Ratticus, as unofficial pallbearer, took a close observation of the grave and twitched his whiskers. Nine year old Brandon laid Rudy to rest by placing the Tiffany box into the open grave with a solemn, “Ashes to Ashes Dust to Dust”, as four year old Kristy watched on approvingly. After the hole was filled with earth and flowers, Kristy proudly placed the brass marker on the grave. The kids did well, but my eyes were moist. A lot of love and laughs had been laid to rest, and I would miss my precocious little pet. The brass fairy was placed on the site with a requested Hyssop plant that had been a token burial fee and gift of appreciation.
The kids and I were to speak of Rudy’s funeral for sometime. It had been a cultural experience. Some people said Rudy had had a charmed life. For a little guy out of Petco and the offspring of an anonymous “Mrs. Ratty”, he’d come a long way in his time.
I was so fortunate to have Rudy. He loved garbage, telephone wires, mochas, Jelly Belly jellybeans, and life in general, and I loved him. He was my ratboy-fatboy, and like I said before, he was one cool guy.
Sometime in April 1999-October 24,2001
jennifer grant