xbevisx

I'm ill. But hey, a day off work is always good.

Our last gerbil died the other day. Her name was Squirrel (I always thought she looked a bit like a squirrel) and she was pretty old. We're guessing about 3 years, which is pretty good going for a gerbil I believe. I never knew creatures actually die, rolled over with their legs in the air, but that's how we found her.
Her sister, Flea died a good few months back. I had worried at first that she would be lonely, but it didn't seem to affect her at all. I didn't like the idea of introducing a new gerbil for company because they can sometimes get a bit stressed and hostile in that situation.

I remember when we got her and her sister. My girlfriend, Amy, used to work in a pet shop in Aldershot. There were a couple of pregnant gerbils that were brought in by someone, and we had decided to look after them at home and make sure the births would be peaceful and safe. There was a huge litter. I'm a sucker for gerbils, I think they are my favourite small rodent ever since my first gerbil who was black and named Darth Sidious or Sid. There was one baby that looked like it could be the runt, and it had a strange crooked tail. That was Squirrel. So we kept her and Flea (she stood out because of her insane leaping skills, hence the name).


So I dug my first ever grave, and buried her in the garden with some gerbil choc drops and a piece of dried banana to see her through to the afterlife.


Here's Squirrel and Flea having a bit of a sleepy cuddle.


Squirrel just waking up from a nap.