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Curious and fearless, Scottie-man was a couple whiskers short of a brux, if you know what I mean. Scottie came from a "'feeder" bin. Feeder breeders don't care about the quality of life (short as it is) of their "stock." They inbreed carelessly. "It" is only food, right? I didn't know this, or anything about rats when I chose Scottie. I don't regret a second of our time together.

Scottie mellowed in his old age, despite more than his share of troubles in his life, most notably an inability to control his teeth when excited, and chronic bronchitis. At the end though, he was just a grizzled old sweetheart.

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