Every life matters . . . he was here once, and should be remembered, in some way. If Noah, and animals like him, matter to you, and if you are as enraged about his demise as I am, then PLEASE DO SOMETHING!
In my perfect world of dreams, I get there in time to snatch them from the jaws of death. I scoop them up from their cages and put them in my truck. I laugh as I watch them explode with joy, and we drive home with Roswell in the rear view mirror.
They were only 4 months old . . . lost, abandoned and forgotten, but they had each other . . . and when someone stopped in front of their cage, they quickly hopped over to the visitor and their tails would wag so wildly that their butts would wiggle.