Friday, March 05, 2004

Last night I looked around my bathroom. Hmm, I thought, this place is hamster-proof. Anisoara was willing to test it out. She ran around, a free and unfettered hamster.* I made sure my feet never moved while I completed my nightly toilette.

Perhaps the bathroom is too hamster-proof. Maybe there is nothing fun for a hamster to gnaw. Anisoara spent the rest of her time trying to climb up my legs. Then we played. I shuffled backwards and she ran after me. I moved around in circles and she followed me wherever I went.

Ah, the touching adventures of a young lady and her hamster.

A coworker asked me how many hamsters I have. I had to explain that hamsters are solitary creatures that viciously attack outsiders. She asked me how they mate. The answer is, they have a five-second timeout on the violence. Afterwards, papa hamster will eat his own children if mama hamster does not repel him.

When I was eight years old, my sister and I thought that the father should have visitations rights. We removed mama hamster fom her cage and, despite her frenzied objections, we introduced Jack to his children.

What kind of father systematically picks up his own children and bites their heads?

We were horrified! Afterwards we always watched for praying mantis behaviour in our dad.

The hamsterlings all perished. And the next day they all disappeared. According to hamster scholars, mama hamster recycled them into her dinner. Mama hamsters obviously respond to some primitive maternal instinct: if she eats her dead children, they might have a chance to re-form and be born again.

Alas, our mama hamster died shortly. Of a broken heart, we assume.

*Very fast for a blonde fluff-ball.

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