Final verdict on baby mice: it's an excellent way to lose weight, sleep, and peace of mind.
Simon died too yesterday. I knew he was going to. I'm puzzled, I don't know what I did wrong. They both ate well until the last two feedings or so, and used the bathroom regularly to the end. So I can only assume something was wrong with the food I gave them? Simon ate applesauce and soaked oats before he died. I would think that would be nutritionally sufficient. But they both lost weight and were very thin when they died. I don't see how a mouse could pine away while still eating regularly. It isn't logical.
After Garfunkel died I fed Simon every hour, but it still didn't help. The last night, the seventh, I stayed up until two o'clock. Not exactly sure what my master plan was, I just had to keep Simon warm and well-fed. Now I wonder why I do these things, and why I let it upset me, because at the beginning I didn't think they would live and after Garfunkel died I knew Simon would too. So why did I keep pouring time and energy into these things? I don't know. I've been rather mopey and listless, and I feel so ridiculous because I know it's really because they died.
I'm trying to think of the positive things: I kept them alive six and seven days (although I hope they weren't in any sort of pain during all that time), I've learned a lot about mice - for instance, I thought Inman was a wood mouse, but I think I didn't research enough, and they were really deer mice. (They have the cutest little crinkly ears). And I learned a lot about mice - presumably, I still feel dissatisfied with my feeding method. I feel like it kept them here longer when maybe they were uncomfortable. I think I did my best - but towards the end I was so exhausted I wasn't waking up in the night, etc, and I started staying up later, but then getting up a little later too.
But I couldn't have done anything else, so I suppose I did what I had to.
I also have been wondering why I did it. I suppose it was compassion, but compassion is a funny thing: for animals that are widely heralded as a threat to my own species, when I knew they were going to die, etc. It's really illogical the longer I think about it. It actually seems sort of ill-advised and stupid, in retrospect.
But I guess I did the right thing, because if I could do it over again I would do any different. I couldn't. I'll be a little better prepared the next time this happens...because I know it will again. Animals seem to find me.

After I made that last post I found that Garfunkel had, indeed, died. It was hard. I knew before I opened their box that he was going to be dead, and still I actually cried. I hadn't expected him to have rigor mortis yet, I can't stand that. Also Simon was cuddled up to him and started nudging on him when I opened the box, and that made me very sad. I thought, 'I don't cry at funerals, I'll never cry over a mouse.' And yet I did. Maybe it was something about being in the comfort of my own home.
Also, as I have stated before, I never had expectations of their survival. So I was surprised to be so upset. I see now that I must have grown some very fond ones in these six days. Now I'm feeling a little better, a little accomplished that I kept them alive this long. I just hope it wasn't a painful sort of alive, I hope he wasn't miserable. Garfunkel kept using the potty regularly up to his death, but he had gotten thinner. So had Simon. I don't know what's wrong, I'm only hoping the altered formula could help Simon. But honestly, he's starting to morph into Garfunkel: a curious tendency to curl up on himself, almost in a fetal position, and an unawareness of space. Probably weakness.
I wonder if I should have tried to feed Garfunkel more when I saw he was dying and wasn't eating quite as well. For Simon now I am feeding him every hour. When Garfunkel died I saw that he had two little bottom teeth, so I have given Simon some applesauce and oat flakes soaked in his formula, which he enjoyed. But he's constantly ravenous, something I don't understand. I researched mouse nutritional needs, and found that riboflavin, or vitamin b6, is very important. However, almond milk is notably high in it. I'm also giving them fat and protein, so I can't figure out what's going wrong. I could almost understand Garfunkel's just dying if it wasn't for the weight loss. They've both lost weight, and I only wonder how their mother's milk could have been so different. They eat well. It doesn't seem to me that they should be any thinner.
Now I'm in a quandary. To be honest I'm exhausted. We have places to go tomorrow. But I'm afraid Simon is going to get cold. After my accumulated nights of sleep loss I can no longer wake myself up in the night. Last night I slept like a rock from 2 a.m. until nearly nine o'clock in the morning. I don't know what I'll do, I need to reheat Simon's rice sock every few hours, and feed him. So my master plan seems to be to watch a movie (again - this has been my method of keeping myself awake), and stay up as late as possible? Anyways, that's my best plan. This sounds awful, but if he's going to die, I wish he would hurry up and do it, because I can't bear to think of him suffering and slowly going, or dying cold and alone in the night. I wish he'd die in the day, right after a nice warm feeding.
Every time I rub his belly to stimulate a potty I also have to wipe up his face, because we make such a mess with this formula. I'm afraid it has the worst sicky-sweet smell in the world; and now I imagine it everywhere. I nearly gagged when putting on the cocoa butter lotion I put on every night after my shower, somehow I imagined in smelled similar. Also when it dries it gets stiff, it's revolting. But we just aren't the neatest set, Simon and I.
So, we'll see what happens tomorrow. I feel sorry that I can't help them more. I don't know what I would have done if they had both lived to adulthood - the plan was to release them in the woods, which made me extremely happy until I imagined them haplessly wandering around, waiting for a handout before an owl or something swooped down on them.
Then I thought perhaps I could convince the family that we need two pet mice, but the odds of them really being both males is probably around 50/50 (and given my Kaley luck, probably much slimmer in this case) and I could just imagine waking up one morning to find that Simon was really Simone and she had given birth to a large litter. And then where would we be?
So I try to look on the bright side. But while this all saved me from the keep or release dilemna, I wouldn't mind being in it again.