You tear down your furniture to build as many shrines as you can. The newspapers are starting to run stories about your activities, but no one has ever seen you afoot. You pride yourself on that. You give all of your material possessions to rodent devotion.
People start to get pretty upset about your terrible smell. You don't care anymore. You can't pay rent. You have to move out of the co-op. This makes you sad, but you feel that you made your commitment to the rats and voles and moles and stoats, weasels and polecats and moles and all the nasty furred creatures of the world.
Things aren't so bad. The local tobacconist will let you come in and pack a pipe whenever you like, and the food pantries keep you almost meeting basic nutritional requirements most weeks. It's not hard to keep building rat shrines. People throw things away all the time. You sleep in ATM koisks, storm gutters on dry nights, school bus parking lots. You cry whenever you see a rat. When you find a dead rat, you give it a solemn burial and keen for it until your throat is raw.
There is another story in the newspaper about you. They actually interview some of your old housemates on the suspicion that you might be the one building the shrines. It turns out a lot of people are pretty interested!