Stalin, my mouse, died today.

I won’t go into detail. It wasn’t pleasant for me, and I doubt much of
anyone would enjoy reading about it. My last ditch efforts to save him were
in vain. When I’d done all I knew to do, I laid him back in his cage. He
didn’t move all day.

Selecting a spade from the Myer’s shed, I dug a hole beneath their apple
tree. It may sound like a romantic place, but it turned out to be a rather
stupid choice, too many roots in the way. “Well, Bud,” I said through a
tightening throat for the last time as I picked up his tiny, stiff body and
laid it in the shallow hole, “you better be dead.” Then I looked the other
way as I dumped a shovelful of dirt in. Stomping everything down, I walked
back to the shed to put the shovel back, hoping the cat wouldn’t dig him up.

I hosed out the cage and left it to dry. Then I went back to work.

I guess this means I’ll have to redo my webpage.