No, let me back up.
When Melinda was 9 1/2, we--by which I mean I--bought her a hamster. A small furry little Roborovski Hamster who was subsequently named Candy.
Candy lived a happy little life, for what hamster lucky enough to be owned by an adoring child would not live in bliss? At a ripe old age of almost 2, she keeled over and breathed her last. It was a difficult time for Melinda, but was helped when we brought home a new pet a few days later. This time, we (ahem, I) with amazing argument-avoidance-foresight, bought two hamsters: one for Melinda and one for Audrey. Two little female Robo hamsters that were used to each other, and no risk of being suckered into buying a different pet later on that required more cages and different supplies--perfect!
|Contrary to what you may think, this is not a photo of a|
dead hamster. One of them simply enjoys
looking dead whilst sleeping.
Everything seemed to be moving along quite nicely, and we went on our second out of town trip, leaving Chris and Timothy to take care of the house and all it holds. One morning I awoke to a text:
Which brings us to the beginning of the story: One uneventful day, Audrey and I walked into Centinella Pet Supplies to buy some hamster food. To Audrey's delight, we discovered that the store would soon be hosting Hamster Races! We could enter as many hamsters as we wanted (for free!) and each would receive a free ball to race in. Oh the anticipation!
It was quite a bit of fun to watch, actually. Some hamsters just wouldn't move. Some hamsters were about 800times as big as ours combined. We ended up entering the boys: Peter, Cotton, and Fang.
A brag on my Linnie: While we were there, Melinda noticed a boy and his dad next to us who were enjoying the races. Something they said led her to inquire, "Are you just spectating?" The dad looked at her for a few seconds and then said, "What?" Melinda rephrased, "Are you just here to watch?" Recognition dawned and the man nodded, answering, "Yes," with a smile. (Aren't vocabulary/smarty stories the best? Who said eavesdropping is bad? Eavesdropping on that conversation was delightful.)Anyhow, Fang won 2nd place and brought home a fancy princess carriage for his sisters and momma to run in. They've enjoyed learning how to run in their big huge orbs--something Shasta (Ana & Jack's dog) has greatly enjoyed as well.
There is, however, one section of the baseboards that had a moderately-sized hole drilled in it. I had assumed that the hole dropped directly underneath the house, but started to get skeptical when two days later I saw a shredded Nerf dart in the adjoining room. Sure enough, the next morning as I was stumbling back from my alarm clock duties, I saw a little hamster sitting outside the two hamster cages. Hungry, I assume, the little one was caught without too much fuss and now we are back at full hamster capacity.
Anyone up for a little furry pet?
* (As an aside, the title of my post alerted me to the fact that amok is yet another English word in which one is allowed to choose whether to spell it amok or amuck. Ah, the freedom of spelling choice--what fun! Both variants derive from the Malay work amoq: "a psychic disturbance characterized by depression followed by a manic urge to murder". Thank you dictionary.com, that was fun!)