Thud. Poor little pinky had fallen. She wasn’t well. The Zozo found her that morning huddled in the corner of her car, face on the floor. She wasn’t eating and was very wobbly on her feet. Since then I’d had Pinky out and fed her some chocolate cake. This had perked up a little bit but was still wobbly. Now, unable to stand properly or walk straight, she’d obviously slipped off the ledge in her cage. Watching her make her way back up again was distressing. She was wobbling so much she could barely walk up her ramp, needing several attempts to make it. Clambering up the various bits of her cage was a struggle, the risk of falling again ever present.
Sadly we knew this was it. Pinky was 2, which is very old for a mouse. She’d outlived the other mice by a long way and she’d survived long enough to meet Willow. That night I gave her a final stroke and said my goodbyes.
At some point during the night Pinky passed away. I think she had a happy life. She certainly bought us more joy. I spent the morning packing away her home and cleaning down where the mice had been. At some point over the next few weeks we’ll put her, and the other mice, into the Cristal box and cremate them. What with Willow to look after I think it’ll be a while before we get any new pets.
The weather has, of late, been unseasonably nice; something that The Zozo and I have been taking full advantage off. On Sunday we decided to head out for a swim so I showered, donned my swimming shorts and my jeans that had been strewn on the floor the night before. 5 minutes later and we’re downstairs just about ready to go.
Next thing I know there is a sharp scratch on my thigh. Initially I thought I had something sharp in my jeans that had just jabbed me… but the pain was getting worse, on second thoughts have I just been bitten by something? Nope… pain still getting worse… I’ve been stung!
Trousers off and round the ankles I make an indignities escape into the kitchen to find out what manner of beastie has attacked me. Closer inspection revealed nothing on my leg and nothing obvious on my trousers, however, by this point The Zozo has found the culprit, a wasp who was now languishing in the living room.
Initial thoughts (or in my case hysterically screamed orders) were to get the can of Raid and empty it on the little fucker, you know, just so it knew it was dead. This was hampered by not actually being able to find the Raid and by the fact that The Zozo doesn’t like unloading that much pesticide near her spiders or Pinky.
The Zozos second plan of attack was the use of physical violence applied by the favoured weapon of school children in changing rooms across the globe: the damp, twisted and flicked towel. *bam* Direct hit, guts oozing from the now very dead wasp.
My leg still itches from the attack but I draw comfort from the fact that it’s cold outside today. And it’s going to get colder. The wasps are dying. Hopefully slowly and painfully!
I didn’t see Pinky this morning. I’m worried. I’m waiting for a text…
…so as not to be gloomy let us, intend, concentrate on the weather. I have my coat on and a long sleeved shirt. My jumper is in my bag. I may put it on later. Yes, the marvellous winter air is closing in on us… and more importantly on the wasps in the loft.
Their nest can’t be too big. I don’t recall seeing any wasps a couple of weeks ago so I think a queen has got confused and started work too late. That is my hope. Her, and her children are now doomed either way. Meanwhile, for the first time ever, I pray for frost, snow and blizzards and for freezing, wasp killing weather.
And no, I will not get over it.
She didn’t found an iconic company that went on to have the largest market capitalisation in the world. She didn’t give us the worlds best operating system. She didn’t invest the iPod, iPhone or iPad. She wasn’t admired, or even loved by millions. But she was loved by us and we’ll miss her.
R.I.P. Princess 
I woke this morning to the discovery that Steve Jobs had died. This sad news was delivered to me via email on my iPhone and confirmed by the BBC News app on the same device. As President Obama said “Much of the world learned of his passing on a device he created”. Not something many people can claim.
I’m also waiting to hear about the fate of Princess, one of our two remaining mice. She was ill last night and I haven’t seen her since about 7pm. I worry she too has passed and only Pinky remains. Today may turn out to be a sucky day.
We lost another mouse last week. Buttons, one of the second batch of two we bought, died rather suddenly during the day. We weren’t aware that she was ill so The Zozo wasn’t on hand when the end came. Apparently when she was found the other two had rather snaked on here. I’d kind of expect that behaviour from Princess, but I can’t help but be a little disappointed in Pinky as I thought she knew better.
This latest bereavement means we’re down to two mice. Princess was the other mouse in the second batch and so is the youngest. Pinky, who we thought would be first to go, is still hanging on in there and is a real old lady now. The Zozo suspects she’s now deaf, or at least hard of hearing and she’s getting a little clumsy, falling off things from time to time but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion she’ll outlive all the mice, and maybe even survive long enough to meet Nubbin.
Daisy, one of our mice, has not been well of late and The Zozo has been fearing the worst for a couple of days now. At some point during the day yesterday she died. Arrangements for the cremation will be made later. Please send donations to our house fund in lieu of flowers.
With the departure of Daisy we have only 3 mice remaining: Pinky, Buttons and Princess. Pinky is the last survivor of the original 4 mice, which is surprising as we’ve been worried about her since before The Brain died. She’s obviously a fighter.
Ever since The Brain died I’ve been worried about pinky. Of the 5 remaining mice she’s the smallest by far and she always looks like she’s on her last legs. According to Wikipedia fancy mice live for 18-30 months in captivity. According to The Zozo (a much more accurate source of information with things like this) and anything past 18 months is bonus time. We’re well into bonus time and our little mice are now old ladies. In order to get closer to 30 months than 18 months Pinky often gets special treats and hand feeding on The Zozos lap.
The mice holiday at the Zoo when we’re not at home for any length of time and last week was no different. Being at the zoo means they’re under the watchful eye of at least two keepers every day and ensures they’ll be properly looked after. This time we left the mice with instructions that they were old mice now and if any of them, especially Pinky, didn’t see the week through we’d understand. After all, it’s horrible to have a pet you’re looking after die on you.
Thankfully for the keepers, and happily for us, all 5 mice were alive on our return however, sadly, not all of them were well. This time it wasn’t pinky, who’d received special attention all week and was looking bigger than she had in months. No, it was Mrs Jingles had become ill and, on Saturday, The Zozo texted me to bring some special medicine for her. 10 minutes later Mrs Jingles died. The Zozo suspects kidney failure and I like to think Mrs Jingles held out to say goodbye to her mum.
Unlike The Brain, who was unceremoniously dumped in the bin, Mrs Jingles was put on ice. Yesterday The Zozo and I said our goodbyes and Mrs Jingles was cremated. I worry that the coming months will feature 4 more burials.
R.I.P. Mrs Jingles.
Bootnote: For those who were unaware, Mrs Jingles is named after Mr Jingles, the mouse from The Green Mile. We had hoped, a little optimistically I know, that Mrs Jingles would somehow be like her namesake and live to a ripe old age. If you haven’t seen The Green Mile go rent it now. You’ll understand once you’ve watched it.
I was greeted last night as I crossed the threshold into the house by a not quite full bin bag containing assorted kitchen waste and the body of one ex-mouse. Said bag was unceremoniously dumped in the bin outside ready for collection by the bin men. Not quite the memorial I had in mind1 but The Brain had at least picked the day before bin day to die.
It would also appear that bereavement leave doesn’t apply to small pets which is a shame, mainly because if I could swing a day off for a dead mouse then perhaps I could also blag days off for dead cockroaches. Not that we keep cockroaches as pets mind you. No, they are food for the spiders. As such they don’t really have names other than “no, not you” and “yes you!” as the great hand of doom looms over the box they call home to select one to it’s fate. Nor could we really argue any great sadness at their passing. I remain indifferent while The Zozo emits great squeals of delight as various arachnids attack and kill their prey with quite frightening speed. What we do have with the roaches is frequency of death. I could phone in several times a week with “boo hoo! Little Yes You the 26th passed away last night, I’m too upset to come in”. But no, they’re not buying it.
1I wanted proper burial with headstone, 21 gun salute performed by the Royal Artillery while overhead a Lancaster and spitfires in missing man formation did a flyby. Perhaps a short speech by The Queen. Nothing fancy, just something fitting.
The Brain died at 4pm today. Message ends.