R.I.P.

Poor Hammy. It all started yesterday when I noticed she was breathing really raggedly and walking in a strange, cramped way--almost as if her back was injured. I just made sure she had enough food and water and kept an eye on her--but I was fearing the inevitable. Those little Russian hamsters only live for about 2 years, and Hammy was at least a year and a half.

Today I woke up and didn't hear or see anything going on in her cage. I just couldn't bear to look, and neither could Steven. Finally, this evening, Steven searched her cage and found her dead.

I feel a bit sad and guilty. We weren't the best pet owners, and I'm sure the boys were probably too rough with her and that's what led to her early demise--if not from injury, than from pure stress and fright. They're just too young for that small of an animal. I think if we were to get another pet, it would have to be one big enough to hold it's own against the kids.

I'm not sure what I'll tell the boys tomorrow. I guess I'll deal with that later.