When she was like 10 she got a pet mouse and named it Monie. After Monie Love. Because she really liked that song Monie in the Middle. That mouse got a strange skin disease that we thought was fleas, and Mom and I would take it out of the cage and douse it in flea bath with Q-tips and cotton balls every couple of days. In retrospect, that was really gross. After months of scratching and biting bumps on its skin, the mouse had hardly any fur left.
Then it died, so Pamela told the kid she babysat to bury it. The kid buried it in Mom's flower bed and left its rigor-mortis tail sticking up out of the mulch.
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