I was on my way out of the house today to take Sam to bassoon lessons when I glanced at the gerbil tanks. Everything looked fine except I could only see two gerbils in the boy tank, where there are normally three. Mouse was conspicuously absent.
Sadly, Mouse hasn’t been doing very well as of late. He’s been losing weight and has been looking increasingly…rumpled. Mouse was one of the original gerbils and as he was about two and a half years old, I knew he was nearing the end of his lifespan.
I asked Alex to check on him as I left, knowing in my heart what I was going to hear.
Alex says that the other two gerbils had buried him in the corner, covering him with their bedding. Alex exhumed him from that shallow grave and buried him in our rodent memorial ground (newly established), telling him that he was my favorite (he was) and that we all loved him.
I’ve known that this was coming for a while. It was like this with the mice—several months of a slow withering of numbers. Mouse was the first of what will be a long, sad line of gerbil deaths over the next few months.
Poor little guy. I’m going to miss him.
The house seems empty without him.