|These little guys are very hard to raise, and we've just been too freaking busy lately.|
So we missed some small signal over the weekend, or even yesterday, that all was not well, and you died this afternoon sometime after we checked on you and the time when we got back inside. Just yesterday I cupped you in my hand, and you looked ok. (This is when a human wishes most that we could still speak to animals, and understand them.)
Yesterday, Button ate his usual morning arugula with a good appetite. I suppose that Nature must know best. On the scale denoting the demonic wars with Scylla or the death of Rodney King, this death is but a dot in the universe. But no little tortoise was ever better loved.
May you find many delicious dandelions on the way Home, my tiny friend.