Every so often while running my group, I feel it necessary to pair up with someone else in order to spice it up a bit. Our recent Christmas Party was a perfect example of that. I teamed up with David Shapiro, a promoter from the U.S. to host a party at Fluid Nightclub. With new injected energy, lots of dancing and hours of socializing happening, the party was very well received. As such, a point to do it again was made. So this year, I teamed up with Steven, one of the members of a mysterious group of individuals who run the copyrighted Saturday Nite Social Mixer's parties. Quite mysterious indeed as they have no base of operations and are not affiliated with any one group or website, like say, I am with meetup.com. They are like a swarm of happy-go lucky locust, swooping down bars and clubs, leaving only a trail of empty beer bottles and a lot of cash on the hands of the bartenders. It's a beautiful, if strange symbiotic relationship.

So after a few emails back and forth, the joint effort was a go: We were to pillage Philthy McNasty's on Saturday, February the 2nd. So I show up and there are tons of people. I one point early in the evening I guesstimated about seventy at least. Now the interesting thing was the sheer amount of people who I did not know. Generally, in my groups there are a number of people who have become 'regulars,' or more to the point, just friends. We do not need a social event to hang out at, go for drinks or go for dinner. This time it was very much not so, although it is always a pleasure to meet new people. But every so often, just like one would in any other forum, you meet some really, really weird people.

Take exhibit A: I had taken my camera to take some shots of the social. I am surfing in and out the crowds, introducing myself as I go. This girl is putting on her coat so I think she is leaving. So I extend my hand forward, in a firm and friendly, I-am-NOT-trying-to-pick-you-up way and ask her for her name. After which I was going add that I hoped she had a good time. Instead, her expressionless face, still glued to a TV said:

'It doesn't matter...' In a monotone voice.
'Uh?' Did I miss something? Did I have something stuck in my teeth? Well, she wouldn't know that since she hasn't even looked at me. Odd...
'Are you okay?" I asked, and as one of the organizers with a bit of concern.
Her head was still locked to the wall mounted TV, her eyes starring freakishly upwards, looking both distracted and drugged.
'It doesn't matter...' She repeated, slowly.

See, the interesting part when someone doesn't want to talk to you is that you can always catch hints by their tone of voice and body language. They are always the tell-tale sign. But it gets disturbing when faced with well below Forrest-Gump-like synaptic responses, I simply stall. Should I leave? Should I be worried? Do I still have something stuck in my teeth? Are they high?

She was putting her coat quite alright, so I ruled out drugged or drunk. I wagered she probably thought I was hitting on her. But she still had not even bothered to make eye contact to even determined that I was not. Since I doubt anyone would think a guy holding out his hand the way you do to heads of state while holding a camera in the other as the coolest, smoothest approach to hit on a woman. Bitch? Nah, perhaps just very rude.

I looked at her one last time, her eyes still glued to the TV.
"You are weird." I said as I walked away. Some people are just odd.

At around 11:00pm most of the girls in the group approached me to inform me of their need to dance. So the party was arranged into three groups: Some went on to Fluid, others to Devil's Martini and the last to a place called RockWood. I for one, I chose neither, opting for a more quiet fourth option. Needless to say, for what I heard it was a really good night of dancing. That's what matters.

If you would like to check my groups, try The TO23-35 Social and The 25-40 Social Groups. Although they overlap, they tend to cater to a different crowd. Oh, one last thing, I only share the odd and strange stories to you but they are quite rare. So don't be shy, come out! Wait on for exhibit B coming soon!

Oh Cordelia, who knew when you first came to me, you rodent you, with your scaly tail and wildly flaring nostrils would so easily find a welcome place in my home? After all, who among us does not have chilling Black Death et al flashbacks when thinking of rats?

Sure, they may have 'helped' spread the virus that might have killed up 75 million people in Europe alone, but what is a bit of attempted genocide in between friends? It is not like they meant it.

Since we cannot even pretend to be equally guiltless throughout our own history. Why should we abhor animals with the IQ of 6?
At least we knew what we were doing, regardless of the BS we told ourselves to justify it.

So, back to Cordy. I took her originally as a favour to a my best friend's sister Karin, you see this cutie --the rat-- came from a lab. She had been part in a number of experiments and she was getting close to her, uh, 'layoff' date if you catch my drift. Which meant she would be put to sleep along with all her fellow rats and sisters: She had two of them.

The lab tech --whose name shall go nameless-- felt sorry for the little one and decided to spare her. However, she could not keep Cordy herself as her boyfriend at the time was highly allergic to rats and so she ended staying "temporarily" with me.

As you can imagine, my first mistake was to inquire the exact meaning of the word 'temporary.'
After all, England had temporary control over Hong Kong for over one hundred years at the end of the Second Opium war and ditto for the 85 years the United States maintained and babysat the Panama Canal.

Surely, my tenure with Cordy would be nothing of that sort as I expected the little critter out of my apartment in a matter of weeks.

So, two years and a second rat later. Who knew rats were communal creatures and can easily spin into depression unless you get them a room mate? Yes, depression, if kept alone. Obviously not what I had originally signed for.

As you can clearly see, Cordy is the pillow and Lenore -- known as the "lowly number two" or "pleb-rat" is ironically commanding shotgun and clearly enjoying the bean-bag that is her sister. Now, I don't know about you but these do not look like stressed out animals. Genocidal? Uh, no. Lazy maybe, opportunistic would be a better bet. Narcissistic? There you go, that would fill the bill even better as they obviously enjoying a symbiotic warming system. However strung out would be a hard call, I mean, this pics were taking at night and rats are supposed to be nocturnal. Damn furry freeloaders. And that they were, since I normally used to feed them anything I ate, for example chicken, cow, salmon, shrimp, pasta, mussels and sushi. Heck they even had shark, swordfish and turkey. Obviously they tasted things that would otherwise be impossible in the wild. They loved it, but I mean, a rat stalking and killing a shark? Darwin is probably rolling in his grave!

Then, only a week before her anniversary, Cordy fell ill. I never knew what was wrong as it happened suddenly. Sure she was older and she had been slowing down but from one day to the next?

She was almost motionless. Just lying there...
Later I would be told she probably suffered a stroke. I tried to cheer her up, gave her some antibiotics in the hopes that she had some virus.
But it was all to no avail. Nothing helped.

I took part of the afternoon off to spend sometime to rat-sit. It was heartbreaking to see her willfully trying to saunter as half her body refused to comply. She drag herself to my lap and it was then when the choice was made to put her down.

Later that night, Karin came by with a syringe that would do the deed in the most humane possible way. Trust me it was, I was there. We said good-bye Cordy and soon thereafter the needle went into her heart. Karin then handed her to me and I held her on a towel petting her as her breathing started slowing down.

I spoke kindly to her, knowing fully well this rodent had no possible way of understanding what I was saying. But I have read somewhere that many animals, although not as intelligent as humans, can distinguish responses and basic behaviour. Cordy passed away fifteen minutes later.

Later that night, I went to the back of the building and buried her. Throwing her down the shute didn't seem quite right. Along with her went her favourite toys and her blanket.

Had anyone ever told me that I would have been distraught at the death of a rat I would have thought it silly. However it is amazing how a little critter can become a part of your life like that.
Heck, I still know tons of my friend who would be disgusted at the idea of a having a rat as a pet and that is their choice.

However Cordy you had such a wicked personality for an rodent that I can't help but to be sorry at the loss, and if anything she won't be forgotten. How could I? She was my first pet rat.