Oh, little gray one. I found your lifeless body - stiff and bloated - in back of my gazebo. You and your brethren stole tomatoes, chewed through all my pumpkins, and tore out flower bulbs by the dozens. I wished you ill, but never wished you death.
Oh, furry one, how did you pass on? Was it the stray cats? A neighbor's rat poison? Perhaps a deadly duel with a rival mate? I'll never know, but Chantilly and I will miss your happy-go-lucky antics and flirting tail. RIP, little gray one.
(Out of respect for the deceased, no photos to share today.)