Matt says, "q." I'm not sure what that means, but he keeps typing that in while I'm trying to think of what to write.

Lately, the people who I see day to day have been asking me how Sophie is doing. I think on normal circumstances people don't care much how a pet mouse is doing. They're asking because I used to have two mice. One died. I guess they're wondering when and if the second one will follow.

I bought them both in June when they were very young from the same litter. In that period of pre-pubescence, I couldn't tell apart the boys from the girls, so I made the store clerk examine several mouse ends for me. He assured me that I had two girls, which I then named Sasha and Sophie.

All was well and good until I noticed that Sophie had grown furry little mouse balls. Shortly after, he started to hump his sister. I was rather disturbed by the mouse incest and would tap at their tank and shout, "Get off your sister!"

I had to seperate the two, but it was too late. Sasha was preggers. Near her estimated due date, I was preparing to clean out her tank (because after the birth I wouldn't be able to disturb the tank for a while) and found her dead in the nest she built (inside of her plastic house).

Matt suggested, "maybe it was because you seperated them." Partly because both mice were upset after the initial seperation, mostly because he's insensitive about pets that way. The general consensus from everyone else was that Sasha died from complications of the pregnancy.

Sophie is doing quite fine. He's slowly regaining his trust of me and has grown quite fat without a sibling to chase around. Right now he's curled up asleep, and most importantly he's alive.