Last week, on a whim, I went to the pet store and bought a hamster.
We’ve had a bunch of the furry little rodents over the years, from Ramona and Amelia Bedelia to Alvin, Simon and Chester (aka Hamster). Ramona and Amelia Bedelia were Cassie’s, and when she outgrew them I started keeping them. What can I say? I like hamsters.
I miss having a squeaky wheel keeping me up at night, and pine shavings strewn across the living room. So I brought home a cute, tame little blonde hamster we named Minnie.
Scout was great right from the start. He’s so timid and gentle that I was able to hold Minnie in my hand and let him get right up close to sniff her.
Murphy, on the other hand, had evil intentions right from the start. Not only did he tower over the cage for hours on end, he knocked the whole cage over in my office. I thought maybe the open wire cage was too much of a temptation, so the next day I went and bought one of those funky Habitrail-like cages, with tubes and a pod. I figured it would be more fun for all of us anyway. Within a few hours, Murphy knocked it over; the tubes all came unsnapped and little Minnie spent a few dazed minutes wandering around my office.
All in all, Minnie’s been a fun addition to the family. I’m easily amused, so I get a kick out of watching her race in her wheel and sleep hanging upside down in a tube, like a bat.
David asked me last night what would happen if you put wheels out where hamsters live in the wild. Would they just start running in them? How do hamsters know what the wheel is and that they’re supposed to run in it? These are the things he and I talk about after 17 years of marriage.
I wish I could figure out a way to hook up the wheel to something that would generate electricity.