January 12, 2012
Filed Under (Family, They rule the house, seriously) by svana

It’s kind of mind bending to realize that a whole year has passed since our beloved Mousie left us. She was such a wee thing, yet her footprint in our lives was huge.

We had a love triangle in the house… Mousie loved Winston, and Winston liked Mousie, and at the time Winston loved Belle. Belle barely tolerated Winston.

Often, I would come home to find Winston on the back of my spouse’s chair with Mousie nestled in his belly fur, tummy to tummy. A year later Winston will not sleep in that spot, because Mousie isn’t there, tucking herself into his warm fur. Only hours after Mousie died, Winston jumped up to “the spot”, curled up and waited for Mousie…it took Winston 15 minutes to realize that Mousie wasn’t going to be there for a cuddle. It was at that point when, I believe, Winston discovered he loved Mousie. He only understood it through her absence. It was also at that point that Belle comforted Winston, and it only happened once. Belle jumped up to see why Winston was calling, she shuffled him bodily to the other side of the back of the chair, and laid down with him. They stayed like that for almost 2 hours.

Anyone who knows Belle, knows she is the undisputed boss of the house and does not cuddle with any other fur person. Anyone who has met Winston knows that he’s all heart and no brain. If you have a pulse and fingers to scratch his head, you are god-like. In addition, Winston has the memory of goldfish. Winston can spend an hour in someones lap, jump down to get a drink, return and lie through his tooth (yes, I did say tooth), about how “No one EVER pays attention to me!” I suppose that’s part of his charm.

I know in the final days that Mousie was with us, she wished that I’d stop trying to hydrate her…that I’d stop trying to find things to tempt her to eat…that I could be less selfish than I was, and just let her go. Mousie was the runt of her litter of 6, and the only survivor. I was there when Mousie was born, and I was the asshole that purged the fluid from her lungs for 5 hours…and I was the person who gave her a home.

Mousie loved 2 individuals, and tolerated 1.

She loved her Daddy (that spouse of mine), and she loved her Winston. She tolerated me. This is was not unexpected, as I was the person that did all the bad things…I cut claws, administered medication, doled out the reprimands and made the vet appointments…and held her still for the rectal thermometer. The only vet appointment Mousie ever forgave me for was getting her spayed. She staged a jail break from her post-surgical crate and came to cuddle in my lap in front of the fireplace. This memory will trump all the “final moment” memories, because she trusted me to give her comfort.

Winston continues to mourn the loss of Mousie. There are days where he looks so bereft and so small that I fear we will lose him to a broken heart. A year later, Winston will try to lay in the spot that he shared with Mousie, and realize that she’s not coming for a cuddle…and he will come sit next to me on the couch. The expression on his face, in his eyes, is so very sad. As if to say, “Mom, bring her back”… I really wish I could.

Winston & Mousie


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