More Hamster Trauma

Last night, we put Hammy in the ball again and let her roam around a bit. We weren’t watching the boys close enough, because next thing I know I hear the hamster ball comes reeling down the hallway like a bowling ball (while the boys laughed uproariously).

We stopped the ball immediately and checked her out, and she was very, very still. We thought for sure she must be badly shaken, if not seriously hurt. I felt horrible about it. I should have been watching the boys closer. We had a long talk with the boys about living creatures, and how we had to always be kind and careful and make sure never to hurt our pets for any reason. We tried to make them understand that Hammy was small and scared and possibly hurt.

It broke Stevie’s heart when he figured it all out, and he had a good cry. David didn’t really understand, but he did understand that more spanks on the booty would follow if it ever happened again. I felt unreasonably sad too, strangely enough. I guess it just brought back those horrible feelings as a child when I knew one of my pets was hurt and might die. It was weird. We said a prayer that night and asked Heavenly Father to help Hammy feel better.

The next morning I walked into the office, and lo, and behold, there’s David sitting on the floor amidst the disassembled cage. He’d somehow figured out how to A) get to the cage and B) open it and take it apart. He looks up at me and says, “Where’s Hammy?” Where’s Hammy, indeed.

Since she was nowhere in sight, I figured she’d probably recovered from the previous traumatic evening and made a desperate attempt at freedom while David was taking apart her cage. And I have to tell you, for all my weepy feelings for her the night before, the thought of her crawling around unseen somewhere made me shudder (see previous post).

Anyway, after some frantic searching, I found her cowering behind the guitar case, and somehow managed to get her, once again, safely secured in her cage.

Good Grief, this is only the first week.