Dear Little Mouse:
I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I tried, and did the best I could, but it wasn’t enough.
I found you on the driveway, after some flash flooding, when I got home from work. You were struggling to make it across the pavement, and you couldn’t seem to get a grip on it. You kept flopping back and forth; I wondered if your leg was broken? But you kept moving around, trying to crawl along the driveway. I wanted to stay with you just in case PJ came home. I didn’t want him to run you over.
I tried to help you with some leaves and branches, and you were ok, just looked like you were scared and hyperventilating. I bet your den got drowned out, didn’t it? I put you on some cardboard and tried to help you dry off. When PJ came home, he got a towel and researched how to take care of you, and to feed you, because you looked like you were starving. It looked like you wanted to eat; you kept opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. We decided we had to take care of you for as long as we could.
PJ’s mom was very unsupportive. She kept calling you a rat and told me I should just kill you. I wasn’t allowed to bring you in, or even near, the house, so we took some paper towels outside, and made you a makeshift bed. I wanted to dry you off and warm you up; I should have sat in my car with the heat on. I took some milk in a syringe, and we started to feed you. You ate slowly at first, but then were able to pull yourself onto your tummy. Every time you ate a drop of milk, your little legs would shoot out behind you and you even started squeaking. It was very cute.
You were still very weak, but seemed to be getting a little better. Then it started to rain again. It rained for a few seconds, and I covered you with my hands. Then it started to downpour in another flood. I had to run inside; I put you in the driest spot I could find: Under PJ’s car 😦 It was stupid of me. I should have taken you onto the porch, even if PJ’s mom would have gotten angry. I should have put you in the car with the heat on.
It was a very hard decision not to take you inside. I wish I had. So after the 30-second flood, I ran back out to check on you. The paper towel had folded over, and I think it might have been drowning you. I had a box for you to lay in, with dry and clean towels. You were somehow still alive, but you were hyperventilating again. I tried to dry you off, and keep you warm. I didn’t think you were going to make it, but at least you could be warm and cared for.
You died in the box I made for you. I saw you stiffen, and stop breathing. I was very upest; PJ told me that I should bury you and say a prayer. I found a trowel and dug a hole for you under the bright yellow marigolds on the walkway. You won’t be cold, or wet, or hungry anymore, and you have pretty yellow flowers to look at.
But I still wish I could have saved you.