"Rodents" are the featured article on Wikipedia today, so it's appropriate that my "animaux de compagnie", Mayday and Mayhem. Last week, I took them to a specialist vet to get a general check-up and some medications for mycoplasma infection, which, unfortunately, is pervasive among the species. Mayday had incessant sneezing, and Mayhem was snortling, so the visit was rather overdue, but apart from that, they are in very good condition. Mixing crushed doxycycline with rice cream is a certain method to get rats to eat their medicine, and now, a few days later, they are pretty much cured. Despite their age (almost two, which is 60 in rat-years), these brothers are very active, chasing each other about, tails held high (a sure sign of a healthy rat), climbing where they shouldn't climb, and generally being highly intelligent and playful balls of chaos. I attribute their excellent health in part due to their very extended free-range time and their healthy diet of steamed vegetables, a little protein powder, leafy greens, brown rice and oats. I'm not sure how they managed to convince me that their free-range time now consists from when I get up, that they are fed on a mat by the study door, and they can sleep in a kitten bed underneath my bed during the day, being returned to their oversized cage only when I turn in. Rat cunning, that's what they have.

The other member of the household, who is not of order Rodentia, i.e., myself, is apparently also in good health, perhaps due to similarities to my companions in diet and exercise. On my doctor's inquisitiveness, I've undertaken a range of blood tests, which all came back in good order and, after putting on a few kilos from the extraordinary culinary adventures in South America, on the cruise, and then Sichuan province, I am finally shedding my way back towards last year's levels; my body is curiously elastic. For those who are able (and I recognise my good fortune in this regard), a good diet, plenty of exercise, and good sleep, applied with time and consistency, make a world of difference. Still, one doesn't get all the benefits; I recently recall being in good spirits after a great punk gig, finding a smoochy cat on the way home, all purrs and head-butts, and then taking a few steps forward muttering under my breath, "I wish I didn't exist". Ahh, my brain, with its quadruple dose of depression, you take me such places. I even let the mask slip at work at a staff meeting, when I cheerily suggested to all that if we didn't exist, we wouldn't have any problems. That would solve everything for all time! Thank goodness I have my Haustiere to retain a semblance of sanity.