Hi Cali!😊 Bye Cali.😭

I’d been wanting a pet for so long. So long. But, since we traveled (we still do!), that made it extremely difficult. The main problem was finding a place for the cage.

There were also a gazillion others, like if the animal stank (stinkily!), how to clean out the poop (great quantities!), and many, many more. (When people say that, they technically don’t have any proof that there were many, many more problems.)

Anyway, I spent hours brainstorming, and finally, with the help of my family, came up with an idea that worked. It actually, actually worked. After all those years.

Me and my sister were able to get pets. Pet mice. Two of them, one being hers and one being mine. On my eleventh birthday, out in California, we drove to a nearby Petco. (We had brought along a pet carrier to put the mice in for the drive home, where we would place them in their permanent cage. We had also stocked up previously on a month or so’s worth of food and bedding.)

The cage was big, two stories. The first floor was where we’d put the bedding, and the second floor (there was a ramp) had the food bowl, water container, and a little house (we also put some bedding in there). Oh, and the mice accessed the wheel from the bottom story.

Inside the store, my sister and I looked at the mice. She found one she really liked. It seemed to be different from the others. Anyway, when the employee came to unlock the cage and give us our mice, she asked my sister which one she wanted. My sister pointed at the one she wanted, and asked politely, “Would that one be okay?” Obviously it would.

The employee studied the mouse for a moment, then said, “Oh, sorry. That one’s sick.”

My sister was super nice about it, and anyway, we got our mice.

If only, if only that mouse hadn’t been sick…

After a lot of thinking, I decided on the name Cali. I had gotten her in California, so the name fit. Not long after, my sister named hers Lupine. We had so much fun with our mice.

They loved their little house. That was where they spent most of their time in the daytime (unfortunately the exercised on the creaky wheel during nighttime).

But soon, a problem arose: moving day. Where would we put our mice? The cage wouldn’t be safe rattling down the road. So my sister and I designed the pet carrier for a temporary cage. We put bedding on the bottom. Also, we put their little house inside. (Along with some food pellets and the water container.)

Moving day went well. The mice were fine. But then, maybe a week later, we realized they weren’t behaving normally. Cali seemed to be shaking constantly, as well as scratching herself vigorously.

And then we found out they had mites. This was, decidedly, bad.

Very bad.

Our mom looked up how to get rid of them (the mites, not the mice), and everyone said to wipe the mice down daily with Q-tips dipped in a mix of vinegar and tea tree oil. The mice hated this, but we applied it every day.

One fateful day I picked Cali up out of her cage and took her outside. I started applying the vinegar-tea tree oil, and crooning, “Oh, I know you hate this. But I’m trying to help you!”

And then, she jumped. She landed hard on the outside mat, and I, terrified, scooped her back up. She jumped again. Her muscles seemed to be shooting every which way and doing all sorts of weird things.

Sobbing, I took her inside and sat down at the dinette, Cali still in my hand. My family gathered around as Cali jumped one last time and landed on the floor.

She never moved again.

We buried Cali right outside of the campground, in a huge open area. We wrapped her in a napkin, and my sister let me borrow her trowel to dig a grave.

My dad found a stick that looked exactly like a cross, and we stuck it in the ground above Cali’s grave. I picked a variety of bright flowers and set them down at the foot of the cross.

I sat there, feeling very proud. If Cali could see her grave right now, I was sure she would know she was loved.

Lupine, with no companion (mice are very social), died soon after. I peeked in the cage, and saw her lying exactly how Cali had when she was dead. Feeling sick, I broke the news to my sister, who was reading on her bed.

We buried Lupine next to Cali, and we also made a cross for her. I was glad to see that Cali’s cross was still there, but a little disappointed that the flowers were gone. (There actually were a few left, but they were dried up.) I was mainly feeling devastated for my sister, and I admit, myself.

The only pet that had truly been mine was dead.

As I sit here at the dinette, I can still feel her running around in my hand, peeking over the edge. I can still feel her white, soft fur. I can still smell the gag-worthy stench of her poop. I can still hear the awful screeching sound the running wheel made at night. I can still see those innocent eyes.

And I still love her.