My rat Wilbur, one of the best rats I've ever known, passed away on Saturday. He would have been two years old around late November or early December. The average lifespan of a rat is supposed to be 1,000 days, or 2.7 years. He declined into old age rapidly over the past few weeks and became sick. I don't know what it was. He sounded congested all the time and toward the end had slow, labored breathing.

I wrapped Wilbur's body in a scrap of fancy purple fabric left over from an old costume and buried him out in the yard beside his brother Zeke under the rosebushes. Then I set a large rock on top to mark the grave, along with some flowers from my yard. If anyone thinks that's silly, then you obviously don't understand love. People who just throw their pets' bodies in the trash make me sick. If you have ANY respect or feelings for that creature whatsoever, you would give it a decent burial or cremation. After all, do you want YOUR remains chucked in a landfill?

Wilbur was one of the best rats I've ever known, but for some reason I haven't cried at all. Not even when I had to dig the grave with a spoon because I have no shovel and had to bury an animal myself for the first time. I've been indifferent to the whole thing. It's like, ever since Mom passed away, I just haven't been able to cry or even get really sad about losing someone. Sure, I'll cry about almost anything else that upsets me, but not death anymore. Not when Mom died, not when a good friend's husband died shortly after, and now not even when one of my favorite rats ever died.

No tears, no sadness. I'm just indifferent. It's like God answered my prayers a little too well when I asked for the strength to cope before losing Mom. Not that I really mind all that much. Who WANTS to suffer from the loss of a loved one? But I just can't shake how unnatural it is to be this way. And Wilbur was the very last rat my mom picked out. We would always get two rats of the same gender to keep each other company. I would pick one, and she would pick the other. I feel like her final choice should count for something extra, but it doesn't.

I will always love Wilbur and miss him dearly, but why do I never get sad anymore? I was a wreck when his brother Zeke died. I cry for all my rats. But not for Wilbur, one of the rats I love the most. What's wrong with me?