I have a pet rat. Her name is Panchu. She is ill and will probably not recover. It may seem strange to many people, that one might care for a rat but to me, she means the world. I have watched her aged this year. slowly, running less and less. Age is a bitter thing, it seems. Her bright eyes still look up with curiousity, anger to the cats, joy to me. Her wheel turns less and less each night. A mornful creeking reminder of the finite nature of all. now silent. Today was bath day. Panchu is a clean rat. she can wash herself normally, but sometimes it's nice to be held, to be scrubbed, to smell new, to be reminded of love - of what being cared for feels like.
  Bath day. I am reminded of certain  death and burial rituals that include washing the fallen.
She is so small. So wightless. so weak. I run a sink. warm. I submerge my fingers and comb her fine fur. She doesn't mind. even holds my index  for a moment. Panchu never had great love for being in water, though she can swim (fast, too usaully to the nearest escape.).  In my hands she touches the warmth. I am prepared for her to rush up my arm. with careful touch, I rub baby shampoo into her brilliant, white coat. She seems weary - a melancholy we share. Johnson and Johnson lathers nicely.  Two halloweens ago she clamored with engery. barely staying still long enough for a lather - let alone a second rinse.
  So tired.
I dried her without complaint. Once she would've pruned her fur untill it shined and immaculately white. Always running the dirtied paws over her ash coloured ears. I am told the colour difference on her head is common in hooded rats. There is nothing common about Panchu. Born with fur like snow, she loved to explore. Before we lived in Ames we lived in a place called Petsel pl apt 2. each morning she'd orchestrate a new escape from her cage. One such morning she found a a box full curious things. It was a box where I'd put some art supplies. Most charcoal and craypas. Naturally, she wondered inside where her paws became so soiled and dyed with dark inks and dust that when she cleaned them it stained her white head black.
  Outside dry, red leafs fall.