We had warned them.
We had talked and talked about how as humans we were not the best option for raising the baby mice.
We had tried to prepare them. But there are never the words to tell them when the worst happens.
Freya had made an outdoor play area.
Felicity he taken to shouting ‘can I check the mice’ and ‘they are still alive’ every time she saw their little faces.
So, as they died one by one over three days they were understandably distraught.
There was nothing more we could have done, but no matter how many times I tell myself that, Freya’s tear streaked face comes to mind.
Would it have been better to have let nature take its course and let them die in the shed? Should we have put them out of their misery? Should we have nurses them and tried to prolong their lives just for them to die anyway…
I don’t know, we all learnt a lot, not least of all me 😦 I was heart broken when the last one died, even though I knew it was coming. The night before we found him dead I had chatted with him and kept him warm while all the time knowing he was unlikely to make it…. rehearsing the words for the inevitable conversation.
It didn’t make it any easier.
RIP little ones.