on the last mouse standing

She died this morning. 

I listened to her ‘spin’ and ‘run’ every
evening.  All of her ‘sisters’ passed away one by one and she spent
the last month of her life alone.  She was never one to be held, did
not enjoy sharing food, but when her 3 ‘sisters’ were alive, they
could be found every morning all cuddled together, nesting surrounding
them.  In her last month she did not have this warmth, this
cuddling available to her.  When listening to her at night I wondered
if she felt lonely, if she pined for her ‘sisters’, if she had second
thoughts on being held. If she did have second thoughts, how would
she know how to avail herself to the love that had been offered?  Could
she just flip a mental mouse switch, allow herself to be softly pet, or, was it
hard-coded into her, that humans were dangerous and unnatural to her life? 

I cried for her
when I saw her lying there motionless, her soul ascended.

She was me.

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