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I lost my little Stan 2 weeks ago, fighting against a pituitary tumor. I found him lifeless next to his bowl of food he completely emptied (I guess he wanted a good last meal...).

The worst part of loosing him was not the way I felt, but looking at Kyle realizing his brother wouldn't move no matter how much he'd put into trying to wake him up. Looking at him stopping, standing still, and making those weird stressed noises. Trying again, running around his brother, making stressed noises again.
They spent their entire life together, and I truly hoped they would end it together. Kyle is not the same since Stan passed.

Stan was perfectly healthy. This tumor was just unfair and felt like a middle finger to a rat that was an amazing pet and who back in April seemed to be perfectly able to reach his third birthday.