Yes, little scratchy ceiling dweller, you stopped waking us up over a year ago. Your minuscule midnight disruptions in the overhead darkness were your only crime, for which I sentenced you to a drawn-out, fatally painful stomachache. Now I peel back the attic insulation to find your filigreed remains knee-deep in dust, this photo your best shot at fossilized preservation.
The fine bones of your tail diminish to almost microscopic size, to the threshold of nonexistence. You shall no longer poop in my rafters.
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