Proper Mice

Someone thought I was proper. This is quite confusing as it is not something I ever remember being said about me prior. And in my sickly state as I thought about it all I could picture were proper mice. They seem so noble and upstanding to me. Are nice actually proper? Now get the image. Think of the mouse king in the nutcracker. That's proper.

So how am I proper? I am nothing like that mouse King. Was I sitting too properly just trying to remain composed as my body felt like it was going to give out? Or am I just really grown up. Eight years is a really long time. But is it that long? Have I changed more than I thought. The more I try and think about it the more I realize that I probably have. I just wonder if it's all for the best.

I miss those carefree years. The freedom. The complete independence. The ability to get up and go. I miss feeling young.

But if I hadn't changed I wouldn't have love in this way that I didn't know what's real. Having someone that loves me when I am sick and crazy and when I am stressed and tired and when I am beautiful. I wouldn't have a second family or a house or this life that gives me travel and snuggles and Mexican food. 

I just want to make sure that being a nobel mouse isn't stifling the carefree ferret that is within me.