In April of last year, I caved and told the boys they could get some pet mice. Knowing full well, I would be the one doing the cage cleaning and the feeding, etc. Mice are pretty easy, it’s fine. Then in May, Moses’s mouse Indy died. So we got Manny’s mouse Jessie a friend named Pearl.

Jessie and Pearl did not get along at first and it was kind of terrible. But then they became pals and this is a lot of words about mice, I know.

Jessie developed a big tumor and just kept trucking along until I found her dead in the cage this week.

Cue “In the Arms of the Angels.”

Pearl is now showing signs of scratching herself raw and I was like, cool, this is going to be a fun “side quest*” for me to deal with on a Friday.

I called a vet (they don’t see mice), I did an online vet appointment (they cannot prescribe over the internet), and finally went to who I assume is the only mouse doctor in Los Angeles and she was not cheap.

She walked into the room with her nurse and THREE vets in training. Which, was cute. They were very cute. And very sympathetic. And I was like, ‘This is embarrassing, I am embarrassed that I’m spending this much money on a little mouse.’ And they were like, ‘Oh, she’s very sweet, I’m sure she’s worth it.’ SHE IS NOT. BUT I AM APPARENTLY STILL DOING THIS?

The doctor did an exam. (HOW?) And said, while it could possibly be mites, it’s not likely (she explained why and offered to treat her for them as a just in case, but that involved 6 weeks of appointments…) and given her cage mate just died, she’s probably suffering from anxiety. So… now I have to give a mouse gabapentin 2-3 times a day. And you guys, what?

Why?

What?

Anyway. A lot of words about a $6 petco feeder mouse that is now, like the rest of the adults in this fucking family, suffering from anxiety.

*Claire from Online uses “side quests” as way to describe her weekend to do list and I find it charming.