Late last night I had to put my mouse down, he was three and a half. His name was Clickster and he was from the Kensington breed. I got him when he was just a pup, and distinctly remember freeing him from his shell. We instantly bonded and I immediately put my trackpad up for adoption.
I taught Clickster mouse gestures, custom key click behaviors, and how to sit and stay. Those were happy times; when we ran free over the countryside quickly switching from assault rifles to nades to pistols with the flick of the scroll wheel.
Slowly Clickster's health began to fail. When he was about two years old I had to amputate the rubbery fur on his sides. It just too hard for him to keep clean. Then he suffered a paralyzation when he was three. Through a state of the art procedure, I was able to graft a new USB connector to his spinal cord and resuscitate him.
Clickster had a new lease on life and gave me his all. We once again romped through long spread sheets and text documents, deftly manipulated 3d models, and created digital images; all with headshot precision.
Alas, his skeletal system just couldn't keep up with his mental capabilities. His joints creaked, his rubber feet were worn ragged, and last night his scroll wheel gave out. I decided it would be better to end his suffering, rather than to selfishly keep him alive for my sake.
Resigned to my decision, I quickly pulled the plug and the last spark of life left his eye. It was over in a moment, and he died in my hands.
RIP Clickster. :'(
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