Dinky the Rat Gives Pupils Lesson on Death, Life

Compared to her street-dwelling cousins and country relatives, Dinky the rat has enjoyed a pampered life.

As the class pet for Scott Leaman’s third-grade students at Trabuco Mesa Elementary School, the brown-and-white rodent has lived two of her 2 1/2 years in an air-conditioned building with smooth, palm tree-lined walkways, carpeted classrooms and a spectacular view of the Saddleback Mountains.

Leaman, who brought Dinky to Orange County when he moved from Carlsbad to Rancho Santa Margarita, uses the gentle animal to teach his students about the responsibilities of caring for another living creature. Students take turns feeding him and cleaning the cage, and some are allowed to take Dinky home during the holidays.

Dinky lived a quiet life, the object of affection and curiosity, until she developed two large, life-threatening tumors.

Leaman said he was faced with the prospect of preparing the children for the death of something they loved.

“I was afraid Dinky would have to be put to sleep,” Leaman said. “I had to get the children ready for that, so I read them a story called ‘Ten Good Things About Barney,’ in which a cat dies and everyone talks about their good memories of him.

“So we discussed the good things we would remember about Dinky,” he said. “We also made a decision as a class about what to do with her, and agreed that we would do whatever the doctor said.”

“I was sad,” said student Melissa Chapin, 8. “If she had to be put to sleep, we said it would be the best thing.”

The lesson never had to be learned.

Local veterinarian Dr. Ron Kelpe was able to save Dinky by surgically removing a 1 1/2-inch tumor from her mammary glands and a 3/4-inch tumor from her neck, at no charge to the school district.

After a nearly two-week convalescence, Dinky was recently returned to the classroom amid cheers from her pint-sized guardians, who share the chores of feeding their pet and cleaning her cage.

“I see it, but I don’t believe it,” said Billy Glas, 8, yelling, “All right, buddy!

“I’ve never had a class pet before,” Glas explained, his wide-eyed, freckled face turning serious. “She’s one of the best rats I ever knew.”

Kelpe showed up for the reunion to give an impromptu science lesson, snipping Dinky’s nine stitches as the students crowded around a table to watch. Some winced and asked why she didn’t scream, but Kelpe assured them that their pal felt no pain.

Dinky, on the other hand, sat calmly through the ordeal, twitching her whiskers as if it was an everyday occurrence.

“Believe it or not, Dinky will actually lick your face,” Kelpe said. “She is such a nice little rat.”

Now that she has recovered, Dinky is back in her glass cage on a countertop in the corner of Leaman’s classroom, sitting under a huge computer-printed sign introducing her by her full title, “Dinky C. Reeboks.”

“The C stands for Chainsaw,” Leaman said of the name concocted by his former elementary school students in Carlsbad, Dinky’s classroom birthplace.

“The boys all wanted Chainsaw and the girls wanted Reeboks,” Leaman explained, laughing at the memory. “I liked Dinky the best, so we used all three names.”

Although Kelpe rated Dinky as “strong and healthy,” he warned that the tumors could recur because they are common as rats near the end of their average three-year life span.

“But if you were a rat, it would be a pretty good life,” he said.