sandy & nibbles OR why my dad is a good person

my first pets were two mice. one was called sandy and one was called nibbles. sandy was sandy colored (!) and nibbles was gray. they lived joyous lives in a cage in my bedroom until nibbles got a heinous, disgusting tumor of the face, as pet store mice are wont to do. i insisted that my dad bring us to the vet to get said tumor treated. who brings a $4.99 pet store mouse to the vet in the first place? oh, my bleeding heart. so the vet, god bless her, was all sensitive and caring and talked to me about putting nibbles to sleep to ease her suffering, etc. the euthanasia was going to cost money. i have no recollection of how much it was -- it seemed at the time like an astronomical amount but was probably $25 or so. my dad and i went home to mull over the decision. i wept. he suggested putting the mouse to sleep using the exhaust pipe of the car (he was mostly joking). finally, my dad took me back to the vet and paid for her to put nibbles down. i took the ashes home in a specially prepared box. it was the kind that checks come in. i'd put some cedar shavings in there, not really knowing old nibs was going to be cremated. i buried the check box under a tree in the backyard. and that is what i think of every time my dad acts like a giant asshole, and i feel better.