Come on, little BrenRat. Breathe! Very...slowly.
The meds the vet gave her do not work sometimes. Or sometimes they work but then she gets all riled up. Am not taking her back to the vet again. The first time wore her out enough.
She's started shoving away the syringe. I don't know if this means that she just doesn't like the bitter of the medicine or in some little humanlike way she's giving up. I refuse to let her do this. I shove the syringe at her and she backs backs backs up. Squirming away from me, although I don't hold her very tightly because I worry it will work her little ribcage even harder to breathe. I cave, leave her be. Then so she's not alone I reach my hand in and gently pet her, rub her behind her ears. She closes her little brown cow's eyes and makes tiny happy teeth grindy noises, still with guinea pig lungs and I've got the shower running scalding, steam into their little tiny lungs. Hers and PetPet's too, just for good measure.
PetPet of course is my little pomeranian dog-rat. She pounces on me in an overjoyed MOMMEH!~ type of way and this time I have to shove her away, then shove her off of BrenRat, who she grooms maniacally. As if that will win me over, that she is giving affection to her sister too even when BrenRat is struggling. She also likes to play this game of standing on her tippy-toes and licking my nose, once, and when I react she darts back inside. I can see the laughter in her whiskers, in her slight of eye twinkle and her fleet of foot. I know she wants to crawl on my shoulder, stand upright like me and stick her little velvet nose in my ear. I tell her, NO PETPET, and she understands.
From Katie Scarlet to Dusty to these little babies. They are such little loveys and it just hurts my heart when one of them is under the weather. Grahhh.