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Against all odds, the baby rat was born...

Against all odds, the baby rat was born. He was the runt - last one out - even born separate from the others. From the beginning, his mother didn't want him. She nurtured the others and tried to kill him. I took to him immediately and pulled him aside, hoping I could save his life. The babies began to grow immediately, not only gaining in size, but growing fur as well.
I held him carefully, in the cave of my warm hands at first, until he became restless and wished to explore. The birth had come at an odd time - in the middle of a lecture in art class. But the teacher was sympathetic to the wonder of the experience and allowed the babies to be adopted by excited students.
Adding to the unusual circumstances, I had been at a gathering prior to class, and not realizing I had school later, had indulged in some mushroom chocolate which was only beginning to take effect when the baby rats were born. I had been trying to conceal my odd state of mind and the rats seemed a perfect cover.
Class continued, despite the minor distraction, and luckily the next exercise involved watching a movie. Blankets and pillows were set up for comfortable lounging. I chose an available seat - a "husband" pillow, resting upon a thin sheet of glass. I'm not sure why there was glass there, but I didn't bother to move it, just sat down carefully. I pulled some blankets to me and nestled in, careful to be mindful of the baby rat who was already the size of a large mouse by that time.
As class continued, the baby passed time by crawling and exploring all over me. I continued to try and keep him separate from his mother, fearful that she'd try to kill him once again.
Eventually, I became so familiar with his presence that I stopped paying attention. The lecture had resumed and as we took seats at the tables, I had taken to sipping from a bottle of vodka, though I don't recall feeling any effects.
At one point, I remember hearing the vodka fizzing, like excited carbonated water. Instinctively I put the cap on to prevent it from bubbling over.
Suddenly, I looked down to realize the baby rat had crawled into the bottle of frigid, fizzing liquid and I had unknowingly trapped him in! No one took notice as I struggled to remove the cap from the bottle - it had become vigorously stuck, somehow. By the time I removed the cap, the baby was unmoving. I had to pull him out by pinching a small but of fur on his nose, since the mouth of the bottle was too narrow to easily reach in and grab him. Finally, I pulled him free from the alcohol. By then, people began taking notice of the commotion.
I held his wet body in my hands, already knowing the difficulty of reviving him. I blew hot air onto his fur, simultaneously warming him from his freeze and drying his fur. He didn't budge. All I could think in my head was that if his body could no longer produce heat of his own, there was nothing I could do to save him.
One of the classmates suggested that I pump the alcohol from his lungs by pressing on his little rat chest, imitating CPR for human babies. I did this strange action, which felt a little like plunging a toilet. For a moment I thought I had him too. But I watched in vain as his chest refused to rise of its own accord and his eyes bulged with each compression.
Eventually, I accepted the outcome and held his damp, cold body in my palms to say a final goodbye. Though I was embarrassed, the other students seemed very compassionate and understanding.
Over the course of my trying to revive him, he had grown small black feather, as though he were transforming from a rat to a raven. Now his feathers were ruined, though it mattered not. My baby rat was dead anyway.

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