The smallest member of the household, Pop-tart the three year old mouse, died today. He was pretty old, as mice go, and his fur had started to fall out, despite the remedy (for a suspected case of mites) that they gave me at the pet store. I'm thinking that in the wild, when they get old and lazy, they get eaten by something young and quick, and I pointed out to Rachel that if she hadn't bought him he probably would have been fed to someone's snake. You know, when they're selling the mice 3 for $5 that they're not intended to be pets.