A place to record the things that my brain comes up with.

21 November 2006

Where did that naughty little hamster go?

Okay, this hamster's name wasn't Charlie (that was 4 hamsters ago, for those of you keeping track at home). His name was Admir, but more commonly he was called Squeaky. Or Hacksaw. Or Monkey. Or Stinky. Or, most recently, Tumor.

Squeaky was a very good hamster, full of all kinds of personality. He enjoyed climbing to the very top of the 3-story cage and chewing on the bars on the top corner (hence, Hacksaw). When you tapped him on the nose to get him to stop, he would shimmy across to the other corner and then climb down (hence, Monkey). Jessica often had to be prompted to clean the cage (hence, Stinky).

Most recently, however, he became afflicted with old age and developed cancer (hence, Tumor). He was approaching his third Christmas, a Blockburger hamster record, when we noticed a marble-sized growth on his chest. It didn't seem to bother him in any way so we gave it little notice until it started growing very, very fast. In the last month the tumor became so large that it became hard for him to walk around, since it dragged between his front legs. He even had a hard time getting food in and out of his cheek pouches, since his left hand was obstructed. He soldiered on, however, and we fed him all the treats he wanted. Ever see a hamster with peanut butter stuck to the roof of its mouth? So cute. He loved peanut butter.

Well, on Sunday night we were sitting down to dinner when we noticed that he was lying underneath his exercise wheel instead of in his snug plastic igloo. Fearing the worst, and getting no response from him, we said our goodbyes and took the cage outside. After dinner, I went to take the rest of his furniture and exercise ball outside when I discovered he was gone. Not gone in the "he's gone, sob!" sense of the word - gone, as in missing. Our dead hamster had wandered off.

Turns out he got cold and went inside his snug little igloo. Not so dead as we had thought.

So Stinky the miracle hamster was brought back inside for a final night in the house, and we all debated having him put to sleep or just waiting it out. It was decided not to take him outside again to let nature take it's course.

The next evening, having seen no activity in the hamster abode and no food touched from the food dish, the cage was opened and the contents of the igloo examined. It was determined at that time that the hamster was actually dead, and mourning commenced anew.

Clint dug a small grave by flashlight, and Hacksaw was laid to rest. We will miss him, although there are some among us who are choosing to wait three days to make sure he's not coming back again before they start to mourn.

It's called denial, and it's often the first step in the grieving process, followed by anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

3 comments:

  1. My condolences go out to you and your family. I understand how it feels to lose a beloved pet, particularly one that lived for longer than expected. Clark and I shall pay our respects when we arrive there for Thanksgiving.

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  2. Um, I just realized that "when we arrive there for Thanksgiving" is tomorrow. WOW. Time flies.

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  3. Sorry, guys. I heard the first half of that story the other night and at the time it was pretty funny, aside from the cancer bit. But now it is just sad. Poor squeaky. Tell Jessica we are sorry.

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