Appendix C: Stella

"Ye gads, what is that thing?"
"I have no idea, but someone get it a toothbrush!"

This bizarro creature is the apple of my eye, a giant Gambian pouched rat (Cricetomys gambianus) named Stella. Stella is the worst pet in the world. She bites all the time, chews up food and spits it out on the floor, and tries to invade my bathtub so she can use it as a toilet. Her favourite game is called "Scare Socar to Death", and involves creeping up on me when I'm not looking and biting my naked, exposed feet. She especially likes it when she startles me so much I scream and jump out of my chair. After a successful footbite, she likes to sit back on her haunches and make a silly giggling noise. In spite of all this (or perhaps because of it), I love Stella more than anything else. She's my weird little darling.

"Come back here, you!"

I got Stella when she was already three and a half years old, just before Christmas '03. Giant pouched rats are not easy to socialize at that age, if they are not already used to being handled. When she first arrived, Stella was very quiet, and would hide in her cage most of the time, even when the gate was open. Nowadays, she is very noisy indeed, especially when I'm trying to sleep, read, or listen to music. She has a squeal, screech, or peep for every occasion. She even has a thin whining noise she makes when she's trying to catch some shuteye and folks are lousing it up by talking near her cage.

"Snf, snf."

In spite of my best efforts to teach her to trust me, Stella does not like being handled. She likes to play little games, though, and will interact with me in a way that could be interpreted as friendly. She loves to come out of her cage, and has learned not to chew my stuff. (Well, mostly. Sometimes, she still decides a page from my sketchbook would make excellent nesting material.) I have managed to persuade her that it's OK for me to lift her down if she climbs up on the furniture and is afraid to jump back down again, fortunately. When I first got her, I sustained a lot of bites during rodent rescue operations.

"Look how SHINY I am!"

One time, I woke up and discovered that Stella had busted out of her cage and curled up with me on the couch. She was on my chest, folded right into the crook of my neck. She's also come and stood near my feet during the night on several occasions, without biting or otherwise causing me harm. I think she does like me, in her pointy little way, but she wouldn't be a good pet for most people. I would characterize her more as a wild animal in captivity than as a domesticated critter--she is third-generation captive bred, if I recall correctly, but you wouldn't know it. She's extremely territorial, and will attack anything that goes in her cage with great ferocity. If I stick food in there for her instead of hand-feeding her, I've got to do it quickly or she'll take a chunk out of my arm. Occasionally, she tries to stake out extra territories for herself, outside of the cage. She drags paper, cloth, and other nesting materials out of her cage and tries to make herself secondary nests. I always nip this in the bud, because I'm just as territorial as she is. (Ha! That's why we're such a good match, me and Stella--we're exactly the same!)

"Butter wouldn't melt in my mouth. If I chew this water bottle long enough, on the other hand, it just might."

When she isn't punching holes in my feet or trying to establish messy little outposts of Stella-ness around my living room, Stella likes to build nests in her cage. She doesn't believe in doing anything halfway, so when she sets to with the nest-building, she really goes at it. The right-hand side of her cage always looks like a garbage dump because of all the rubbish she drags over there. It's a total eyesore. If I had a human roommate who lived like that, they'd be out on their ear, but Stella gets away with it every time. Each night before bed, I have to go through her nest when she's not looking, to make sure she hasn't got any horrible perishable food rotting away in there.

"Anyone got a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card for me?"

Every once in a while, Stella goes on the rampage, and tearasses round my flat, leaving a trail of havoc behind her. She knocks things off my desk, tries to dig up the carpet, and hides under stuff so I can't find her. If I've left the hall closet open, she gets in there. Once she's in, I can't get her back out because of all the junk, so I have to sit quietly and wait for her to stick her head out, then snatch her up before she can withdraw it again.

This is what I can usually see when Stella is on the rampage, and I'm chasing her around. There is a whole lot of Stella. I think she needs to go on a diet.

Anyhow, that's about it for Stella. If you want to read more about her, I've made a list of some of the journal entries I've written about her since she arrived. There are many, many more, but these ones immediately jumped to mind. In the earlier ones, I really have no idea what I'm doing with her, and a lot of little hiccups happen, but in the later ones, we've learned to coexist happily...more or less.

[The links below are not currently working. They will be updated when the entries in question have been re-uploaded. I apologize for the inconvenience].

Ma La Mia Stella è Questa - This was written the day she arrived. She was a little dazed from her journey that day, and quite overwhelmed, besides, so I jumped to a few erroneous conclusions about her. (Specifically, I thought she was sweet, shy, and quiet! Ha, ha, ha!) It is, unfortunately, very rare that she lets me pick her up and cradle her as described in this entry.
Stella's Rampage - Another oldie but goodie: this was written back when I still thought I had some chance of convincing Stella that this is my flat, not hers, and that she is not boss round these parts. (I still tell myself that to make myself feel good, but Stella doesn't care.)
Bad Rat Toilet Stories - Stella shits in the bathtub and jumps in the toilet, alas. I attempt to teach her appropriate out-of-cage behaviour, with limited success.
Monologue for a Misbehaving Giant Rat - This was written soon after Stella arrived, and describes one of the first instances of overtly aggressive behaviour on her part. As she became more comfortable with me, Stella's aggression increased a bit, but so did her playfulness. I have been working on decreasing her aggressive behaviour all year, but she probably won't ever be completely cured of her biting habit. Apart from anything else, most of Stella's bites are intended as a form of play. She doesn't seem to realize that they actually damage me. (Her true aggressive bite is completely different, and is definitely meant to hurt. At the time I wrote this entry, I had not yet figured out the difference, since she hadn't bitten me enough.)
Taking Stella to the Vet (Take One) - Stella doesn't go to the vet. Instead, she breaks out of her cage in the middle of downtown Vancouver, and leads me on a merry chase. I am appropriately horrified, and spend the next few weeks worrying she's picked up some horrible Vancouver back-alley disease. (She hasn't.)
Gluttonous Cricetid - More on Stella's eating habits. She always wants to eat junk food, but I don't let her. She's already way too fat.
Rat Bites Shirt - My shirt becomes a casualty in the giant rat vs. bad rat conflict.
Rodent's Revenge - A bit of insight into the weird relationship between me and my pet. In this entry, we play mean practical jokes on each other. I win. (Temporarily, anyhow.)
My Lazy Rat - Stella doesn't like hot weather. See also the following entry, My Lazy Rat, Part II
Great Huge Glossy Rat - A poem about Stella's favourite food.

Photo credits: These shots were taken by Gail, who is a much better photographer than I am.

NOTE: Don't e-mail me asking where you can get a rat like mine. I adopted Stella when her previous owner became allergic to her, and I have no idea where you'd buy one. Also, I wouldn't recommend this pet for many people. This is a large, quick, squirmy, mischievous creature that can bite you to the bone. It also has an expensive diet, and requires a lot of exercise. As if that isn't enough to worry about, it's very destructive, and may chew holes in everything in sight, including its own cage. Finally, because giant rats are such uncommon pets, you may have a hard time finding a veterinarian who knows enough about them to be useful in an emergency.

If you do end up with one of these rats, however...have fun! I can guarantee you one thing: your pet will always find new ways to surprise you. (Note to Stella: There are pleasant surprises, and then there are unpleasant ones. While I appreciate your generosity, I really don't need a week-old breadcrust. I especially don't need it in my shoe.