You were great. I mean really. You were a tiny skitter across the floor at 4am that left us wholly confused and buzzing with adrenaline. Not an easy thing to accomplish.
The cat still yearns for you. She paces back and forth, sniffing at all of your favorite corners and crevices. We try to tell her you are gone, but she just doesn’t believe us. Perhaps you aren’t gone. Perhaps you’ll never be fully, truly gone.
I’m sorry this is a eulogy and not an elegy. I’m not very good at poetry. (Especially about mice).
And I’m sorry it had to end like that. You deserved better. You stuck it out for the entire day behind that bookshelf, scared and probably a little bit lonely.
But it was really your fault, you know. We were only trying save you. If you’d have stayed put, none of this would have happened.
I guess things just end up like that sometimes. One moment you can be having a joyride down the hall in a cat’s mouth, and the next, caught the wrong way between plastic tupperware and the floor.
So here’s to you, <unnamed mouse>. You were great, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You probably even deserved a name. But it’s too late now.
It’s always too late.
