We are now mouseless.
Alba died a few weeks ago. Old age. I found her lying stiff on her wheel. We joked that she had a heart attack while exercising.
I hadn’t seen Sophie for a few days this week, and I was wondering whether she was just napping, or whether my brother would find an unpleasant suprise when he cleaned out the cage on Sunday. Second night of Rosh Hashana, I went upstairs to feed her a piece of dragonfruit. No reaction. I looked under the newspaper, and there was Sophie, all cold and still.
And that is the end of Alba and Sophie, my roommate’s first illegal pets, and our foster mice since last year. RIP, meesies.