30/07/2025
I thought she was already gone.
Just a baby rat—cold, still, barely bigger than a thumb.
The kind of life most people pass by without a second glance.
But when I picked her up, she blinked.
And then—softly—wrapped her tiny fingers around mine.
Not in fear.
Just asking not to be alone.
I had planned to ease her passing.
But she kept holding on.
So I did too.
I wrapped her in warmth. Fed her a little formula.
She drank quietly, arms tucked around my thumb like it meant something.
Her body slowly softened.
Her eyes grew clearer.
She started to move—just a little.
But her back legs never caught up.
So I stayed with her.
Held her close. Let her rest in the safety of my hands.
And that’s where she took her final breaths.
There was no miracle.
But there was comfort.
There was dignity.
Because her life—brief, overlooked, and impossibly small—still mattered.
Sometimes all we can do is make sure no one leaves this world unseen.
And sometimes… that’s everything.
Goodbye, little one.
You were held.
You were loved.
You mattered.
