I think it was noticing his little feet were at an odd angle when I passed his cage that let me know our last hamster was dead. He was eating last night but I saw that breathing was harder for him and that he was sleeping too much.
Anyway, he's gone now, and we just buried him. My bluebells are in bloom so we decorated his grave with them. They smell so nice too. He would have liked that.
Joy comes from simple and natural things, mists over meadows, sunlight on leaves, the path of the moon over water. Even rain and wind and stormy clouds bring joy, just as knowing animals and flowers and where they live.
Sigurd Olson
Sunday, 20 April 2008
Hammie 2 RIP
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
RIP Hamme II.
You'll never walk alone.
Dulce et decorum est,
Little Hammie, take your rest.
May Heav'n's cage be your delight
Now that you've gone nighty-night.
What a delightful poem for our poor dead hammie. Wouldn't it be nice if we could get it published in a Poems about Hamsters anthology so hammie's legacy would continue. Maybe I should self-publish -- I'm sure there's a market about there for hammie lit. :)
I keep going over to feed little hammie but he's not there. He used to make the cutest little squeaking noises at night too. Of course, that distinctive hammie smell is gone too.
I know about that impulse to feed a recently-departed pet. I used to automatically scrape the dinner leftovers for Ginger, and now there's no one to gobble them.
That caged-rodent scent though---ugh---I had a little white mouse when I was in 5th grade, named Cookie, and she/he SURE did stink. Incredible that a creature that small could generate such a powerful aroma.
Anyway, Hammie II had a good life, I feel sure. Question though, for your science peeps on this blog: do hamsters even exist in the wild? If so, where? And what do feral ones use for an exercise wheelie?
Yep. The steppes of the Ural plain.
So now you know.
Post a Comment