16 August 2007
I didn't plan to blog today. Not until I discovered the death of Momo.
It was 4.30pm when I went downstair to take a look at Momo. I tried to wake him up by clumsily opening the door of the cage. It always woke him up. But it didn't that time.
I opened the food container loudly so he would wake up from his dream. But he didn't.
I shook his house. He didn't move at all.
I stroke him gently from the outside of his house. He didn't move at all. He was already dead.
I woke my mom up from her nap. She was sorry about that. I buried Momo at last at my house garden. His fur still looked shiny. His eyes were still open. It's just that his body just laid there on my hand, motionless.
There was once he slept so sweetly that he just couldn't be bothered by anything. I quickly searched for the camera. It wasn't in the house. When I went back to him, he had already waken up and was deperately climbing the cage, wanting to have a run in his play-ball.
He'd always got stuck between the fridge and cupboard. That's where I could always find him easily. Sometimes he really made me strain every nerve as I search for him desperately after his long-day run.
Momo, come back.
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