Numbness

I found Cupcake in her cage on Friday night, the first of June. She was behind her little igloo, lying down. I tapped on the bars of the cage. No response. So I opened up the cage and I gently touched her side. She was cold. And at that moment, I remembered when my friend Cassie told me about when she was holding a cat that had broken ribs, and the cat suddenly grew cold in her arms.
I knew that it was for the best. I could hear her have trouble breathing at night. She was getting old, and losing the fur around her hind legs. She couldn't move as quickly as she once did, and I don't remember the last time that I heard her running on her wheel.
Still... it's hard to believe that she's really gone. The cage is still on my desk, untouched after I took her out for the last time. I know I have to put it away soon, but... it's difficult to part with it. It was only a little over a year ago that I pulled it out for her. And now she's gone. I know they don't live that long. But it doesn't make the sadness go away. I must have bawled for an hour or something. There's something about finding such an adorable creature laying there lifeless that just breaks your heart. And of course, there is the inevitable self-questioning. What could I have done that would have extended her life?
Was I too careless in taking care of her?
I should have paid much more attention to her. Then I would have known.
This is the time for grieving.