Mosley was a black hoodie dumbo.

Mosley came to me with Maximus, and three other boys. See his page for their story.

Mosley, in his younger days, was a fairly high ranking boy who was prone to throwing his (not inconsiderable) weight around. But as he aged, he mellowed a lot, and ended up a comfortable old man in the most chilled out group I have! He was a lovely, chunky boy with a gentle personality. I always thought he had an 'old soul'.

Unfortunately, Mosley had a stroke one night, a fairly severe one. He was unable to move, or eat and drink. Attempts to syringe feed him or at least offer him liquids via syringe were hopeless as he could not swallow. Sometimes, rats make miraculous recoveries from strokes, but after 24 hours, Mosley had shown no improvement at all, and was not even interested in attempting to lap food or water from the syringe. So I opted to have him put to sleep. The vet agreed his stroke looked too severe for there to be any hope of recovery.

Why Mosley? My husband, Jon, named him.

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