Mouseket

I had a pet mouse. It started out twitchy-whiskered and friendly, but it did not take long for its disposition to sour with neglect. It got depressed and surly. It began to attempt to commit suicide: it leapt from the top bunk; it presented itself meekly to the cat for consumption (who turned up his nose at a morsel that would not twitch and beg for its life). Finally it went on a hunger strike.

Perhaps I should have intervened? Given it whiskey in its water bottle and a tiny pad of paper and mouse-sized pen?

It is buried in a shallow grave in the back garden, its grave marked with a brick.