Rest Well, Snowflake

I woke up early and wandered¬†into the kitchen to make coffee. The dogs greeted me with their cold noses and the bats in the chimney made their last flutters till nightfall. (Yep, more¬†bats in the chimney and I think she has baby bats. They’re good to keep the mosquitoes down and I’m not building a fire till winter, anyway.)

What was missing, though, was the scurrying of tiny paws and the click-bubble-click-bubble of a certain critter’s water bottle. I backtracked to the den and saw Snowflake, fluffy but lifeless, hanging partially off her exercise wheel. It was like she’d had a stroke or a tiny heart attack mid-stride.

I prepared her little body for burial, and damn if that gerbil didn’t keep her happy little disposition the whole time. She went out doing what she truly loved, and when you live like that, why wouldn’t you be smiling?