Sebastian wasn't just a rat. He was a rat for sure, but there was more to him. The way his little paw would raise and he would "wave" at my husband and me when we came home from work, the way he dug holes in his cage and made his own little den, the way he climbed his water bottle and opened the lid to his cage, the way he chased my cats around, those were all endearing qualities. He loved to climb on my arm and sit on my shoulder as he made chittering noises in my hear. He would wrap his tail around the back of my neck when he took naps up there. Even my mother, who wasn't very fond of rodents, would pick up Sebastian and hold him like he was a mammoth beast who needed to be cuddled. Yes, he was much more than "just a rat." I used to ask myself, "Why a rat? I mean, come on, you already have 2 cats, 3 rabbits, and 2 turtles. Why a rat?" There is no real answer for that. He touched my heart and pulled me into his little rat world the day we saw him at the pet store. He climbed the glass as if to say, "Pick me. Pick me! I will love you, and bring you so much comfort and joy." I picked this huge white and gray rat out of a cage of 4 other rats and held him close to my chest. I felt him sigh as if he knew he was going home. That was the moment I knew I had to have him, and that moment forever changed the way I felt about rats. My husband called him "Little Man" and always made sure to hold him and tell him he loved him every day. When we would feed him, he wanted a "special treat" before we filled his bowl. His little hands would grab the edge of the cage and his mouth would open so we could feed him his treat. He would run into his den to eat it while we could fill his bowl. He was so entertaining to watch. He would sleep on top of the tissue box we put in there for his house, and sometimes while he slept he would roll off it. Then he would look around, embarassed, to make sure no one saw. But we always did. On June 12, 2003, I came home from a very long day of work and laid down on the couch. I woke up a little while later and went to feed Sebastian. I noticed his paw had some blood on it. He seemed fine, and I figured he cut his paw trying to climb the water bottle. He had done it before. But then, just as suddenly, he started losing his balance, and his nose started bleeding. I freaked out and called my husband who told me to call the vet and get back to him. I called EVERY vet in the city and none of them would see "exotic animals." There was nothing I could do for him. My husband came home a little while later and picked up our now shaking Sebastian and held him close. A few minutes later, Sebastian took his last breath and died in my husband's arms. We buried him in the box we brought him home in, lined with a special blanket I had made to cover his cage at night. To this day we don't know what happened to him. We don't know why he died. We think he had an aneurysm, but since no vet would see him, we can't be sure. The hardest thing to do was to clean out his cage and put it away. It had become such a fixture in our home, next to the TV where we could watch him as we sat together. He enriched our lives so much, that we remember so well how he made us laugh, and how we loved him. And we realized that an animal's size or ethnicity doesn't matter when it comes to love. We loved him. We still love him. And we will always remember the "Little Man" who changed our souls. Rest in Peace Little Man.