I've been gone for a little while, but there's a good reason for it. I took my sweet little gecko, Icarus, to the vet. After giving him medicine she recommended I feed him waxworms, gut loaded crickets and pinky mice. I found the last suggestion odd, but after that I went to the pet store to abide by the vet's suggestions. I'd gotten my pinky mouse, assuming it frozen and already dead.... until I opened the bag. A small, baby mouse shuffled around in my hand, very much alive. It was hard, but I gently put the mouse in the cage with Icarus. At first he seemed to notice it as prey. Then, with a very light bite, the mouse squeaked and he lost interest. I tried to coax him into eating but to no avail. So now I was stuck with this tiny little mouse, only two days old. My mother rushed to the store to get everything he needed (yes it was a he). We got goat's milk, electrolytes and a syringe to feed him with a paintbrush for feeding as well. His home became a little box with a heating pad at the bottom, with shredded paper towel all around to make him feel at home. He seemed very lively, and loved eating from the paintbrush. That first sleepless night was hard, but well worth it. I'd bonded to this baby mouse, and I vowed to care for him. I had to warm up the milk and feed him every two hours around the clock 24/7. I had to massage his stomach in order to help his digestive system work. It was like having a child, exhausting and a ton of work. But honestly, I'd do that and more to bring him back. I was preparing for his 10:00 P.M feeding when I realized he was laying on his back, motionless. I hurriedly picked him but and realized he wasn't breathing. He'd died. I didn't know why, and all I knew was dred as I tried pumping his chest to get him to breathe. In the end it was futile. I buried him under a tree in my front yard. This little mouse was my first experience with mothering something. Bonding to a baby you raise, despite for how little time I had with him. The feeling I had when I noticed he'd died was truly painful. Even though my parents said his survival chance from the start was only 25%. My mother called him Tiny, and I called him Bean, so I settled for Tiny Bean. I'll always remember the experience he gave me, keeping his box next to my bed, watching vigilantly until he died. I loved him like a mother loves a child, and I can promise you I've never felt anything so strong as what I felt for Bean. I hope he is resting well, and that his death wasn't painful. He will always be in my heart.