I had a rat when I was younger her name was Mandy. I loved her to death, because she followed me everywhere, and sat on my shoulder. She was very clean, and well trained. She even sat and ate bananas with me. She would sometimes get out of her cadge and sleep on my pillow. I loved her a lot because she was mine. She lived for about 3 years, a very good life time for a rat. Then she started getting sickly, all cold and stuff. We had to move her up stairs into my sisters room where it was warmer. The vet said it might be a circulation problem, or she was just getting old. I had been sleeping in my sisters room because I wanted to be close to her. Then one day I came home from school and my parents sat me down to talk. They were all serious and stuff, and I didn’t know what was going on. And then I blurted “What is Mandy dead?” and they said yes. I never wanted that to be the reply, and I don’t know why I blurted it out like that. But the second they told me, my eyes filled with tears. I missed her so much. I eventually got another rat, but she died to, I had two more after then and they also had very short life spans. I would like to think to get another one, but I think its best I don’t. I don’t think I’ll ever have a rat as good as her.