A Tale Of Two Hammies

1. The Beginning

Several years ago, we briefly engaged in a foray into the care and rearing of Hamsters. Zach, just out of a bad relationship with three short-lived goldfish (Lilo, Stitch, and Molly), asked for a warm-blooded pet this time. So, we trudged off to Meijer and picked up a couple of, not JUST hamsters, but "Fancy Syrian Teddy-Bear" Hamsters (nothing is simple today). They were both female, fuzzy, and tiny.

Perhaps as a memorial, Zach named the hammies Stitch and Molly. No Lilo this time. Except I think he never really committed as to which was which, and their identities often swapped.

2. Diet & Exercise

The baby hammies grew into adolescent hammies as the weeks went by. They never really liked their standardized lab rat pellets. I suspect they were regarded as the TV dinner of small mammal food. We discovered that, in a pinch, they really enjoyed popcorn. They seemed to like it way beyond all reason, actually. Unfortunately, as happens so often with weak-minded fancy hamsters, their popcorn affinity eventually turned to addiction. One night I made Zach some popcorn and he said "Daddy, I'm going to eat the WHOLE bowl this time, and not save any for the hamsters." It was then that I knew they had a problem. So we cut them off cold-turkey and moved them on to the methadone of snacks, dried edamame beans. They grew to really like these green lightly salted snacks, in time. Their diets grew, and we eventually identified many common pantry foods that they liked.

Habanero hot sauce, however, was NOT among them. It got in their eyes and they would freak out and do spastic furry cartwheels for fifteen minutes or so.

3. The Great Escapes

Hamsters are pretty clever, which I think is why they are so darned interesting to watch. In addition to learning the use of the traditional running wheel though, ours learned how to escape their cage. I submit that small furry mammals escaping into the environment of a live rat terrier is pure suicide. Perhaps it was a call for help. Regardless, Jake left them alone until they could be caught and re-populated into the prison system. This happened several times. At the time, Zach (at the ripe old age of 4) commented that he had now seen "all of the things" that can happen: "a house on fire, a car on fire, and the hamsters escaping and hiding under the fridge."

4. The Tumor

One day Molly (or was it Stitch?) showed up for work with a large tumor on her neck that we had never noticed before. Without the benefit of MRI or biopsy I stepped in and diagnosed it as cancerous, probably a laryngo-tracheal tumor, which is common for these animals. I gave Molly/Stitch three months to live. As it turned out, I was pretty close.

5. Conflict

I was unaware of the well-known fact that adult hamsters are loners, and DO NOT get along with each other. Oh, as babies they are fine, but once they get that urge to get their own place with a widescreen TV and track lighting, they don't want roommates.

So it happened that one day the hammies started fighting. First little fur-biting tiffs, but these quickly evolved into full-blown knock-down, drag-out melees, complete with eye gouging, boxing, and the highly-illegal paw-biting.

Rather than getting a brand new plastic habitat for the separation procedure, we added on. A few new rooms would help the fighting, or so we thought. And they did stay in their own bedrooms, mostly. But at night (hammies are nocturnal and hyperactive as all hell, remember that if you ever consider getting any) they would go at it and eyes were lost. And worse...

6. The End

One day I looked into the cage and was met with a grisly sight. I didn't know this was possible, but Stitch/Molly had eaten Molly/Stitch! Well, not ALL of her, but some really important parts. I spared Zach the details, and "buried" Molly/Stitch in the garbage can. If you recall, this is the one who had the tumor, and probably didn't have long to live. Still, it was a bad way to go, I only wish we would have separated them more fully.

Soon, Stitch/Molly was showing signs of, well...croaking too. She was not doing good. So we decided to release her into the wild. Well, I decided. Z was still a little too young for all this. As far as he knew, she just died. In reality, she lived out her remaining days/minutes/seconds under a lovely shaded tree with lots of good hiding vegetation growing at the base of the trunk. I left her with some food and she looked happy.

Jake and Z and I walked to the park the next night, and I made sure we stopped by "the release site", without letting on to Z what I was doing. I was somewhat relieved that there was no hammie carcass there, and in fact there was no hammie. The food was gone too, and to my surprise, there was a freshly dug hole in the ground! I think it was hers, by the way Jake honed in on it and started trying to dig it up.

So it is that I assuage my guilt by pretending that Stitch/Molly is still out there, somewhere, chasing down antelope and living in relative peace with the other creatures of Red Run Park.