Of mice and women

I met Colson at the beginning of 2021. I was browsing at PetSmart and walked past the rodent cages, where I spotted this small black mouse with huge ears: a fancy mouse. I immediately took a photo of him. I thought he was the cutest thing, but I had never had a pet like this growing up, which is what mice, hamsters and guinea pigs were attributed to in my head (well, actually, I did have a guinea pig for about two days until it bit me and I asked my dad to take it back to the store), so I decided not to get him.

Over the next several days, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was in a bad spot in my life due to multiple instances at the end of 2020 and something about Colson made me feel like I had to have him. I had never had a pet that was fully my own and I needed that motivation, something to wake up for, to care for. So, on Jan. 28, 2021, I adopted Colson.

Unfortunately, at the time, I was obsessed with Machine Gun Kelly’s album titled, “Tickets to My Downfall;” thus, his name became Colson (MGK’s real name).

I feel like he taught me so much in the time we had. Maybe that sounds silly, but it’s true. He taught me that trust is earned and was stubborn about whether to give it to me. I spent hours with my hand in his cage, encouraging him to trust me enough to let me hold him and give him treats. He taught me that sometimes silence is better than saying everything that comes to my mind. More than that, he taught me that I was valuable when I felt like I wasn’t, even if that was purely because I woke up each day to feed him.

Colson didn’t live for very long, which is notorious for these pet store animals, but in the time that he did, he lived — what I would call — an adventurous life by mouse standards. He ran miles on his wheel, climbed mountains with his ladder just to visit me for a pet, rolled in his ball around a dog who was very curious about him, loved to bury treasure in his bedding and even survived the great freeze of 2021.

I knew he was gone when I got home and he didn’t come out of his castle to greet me. Instead, I saw the sweetest little mouse curled up in an eternal nap. I cried so much. He got me through so much and suddenly he was gone.

I buried him in the backyard, with his favorite castle and long note letting him know how much he did for me. I like to think that maybe he was just an old mouse who got to live a fulfilling last few months of his life, so maybe I did something for him, too.

It’s been more than three years since he left. I still think about him often and grieve for the time that was lost. And when I miss him, I visit the bird bath on top of his grave and sit in the silence he taught me.

Kelley is a reporter for the Hays Free Press. She can be reached via email at [email protected]