All My Little Words

Once upon a time, long, long ago, I asked my son if he might not want a little pet for himself. A gerbil, or hamster, perhaps, that could live in his room and would be his responsibility (ahem) to take care of.

He must have been about 7 at the time, maybe 8, but that kid is wise beyond his years, because initially, he declined. I mean, what kind of kid says NO to a hamster?!?

He must have been about 8, because I think it was about a year later, that SHOCKINGLY, he changed his mind. Or rather, decided that he was now old enough to take on such a responsibility.

So his dad agreed to get him the hamster and the whole setup, as I would be responsible for the ensuing ongoing expenses (food, bedding, toys, treats, vet care). That hamster, (lovingly named Chewbacca) was the best cared for, most beloved hamster ever. We all held him and snuggled him all the time, and he was a super friendly dude. A friend of mine fell so in love with him that she got a hamster of her own. For herself, not for a child, she has none.
I don’t remember how long we’d had Chewie by the time we moved into our new house. At least a year and a half, probably more like two. He’d actually made a few escapes in the house we’d lived in previously. In our new house, he had his own “room” where his house was, with a half door and everything. For some reason though, Sage would leave that open and just shut the door at the bottom of the stairs to keep the predators out.
You can never imagine how terrible I felt when one weekend when we’d only been in the house for about a month, I realized that little Chewbacca had escaped. And I could not find him anywhere.
We searched for days, before realizing that my worst fear was the truth – he had crawled into a heater vent upstairs, and fallen down a vent to downstairs. And that was the end of Chewie.

I cried and cried, and Sage and I had a funeral in the backyard, complete with flowers which resided on his grave in a vase. We buried him in his exercise ball.

I didn’t know what to do, whether it would be better for Sage to get a new hamster, or not. So I let him make the choice. He initially decided not to, but after several months missed having a little friend.

So we got Buster. Buster could never live up to Chewbacca. The biggest thing, I thought, was that Buster was a long haired hamster, which to me, have always seemed to have a different personality than the standard Syrian hamster. Sage did not want one that reminded him of Chewie, though. Buster was just never as friendly or lovable, and in fact, once bit me so hard I thought I might die.
Long story short, Buster met with an untimely end as well.

This time, we got a new hamster right away. per my suggestion, we went back to the Syrian hamster. For some reason, there is only one pet store in the area that was carrying these, and they only had females, so that was what we ended up with, even though I was hoping for another male, to as closely replicate “the perfect hamster” as possible. Sage named her Sarge.

Sure enough, this little girl has been a lot more friendly than her most recent predecessor, pretty much filling ole’ Chewie’s shoes as well as any hamster could.
Then, about two weeks ago, we realized that something was wrong. She hadn’t been rolling in her ball when we put her in it, and Sage realized that she hadn’t been on her wheel for a couple of nights.
I picked her up and noticed that she was wet all around her back legs, and immediately thought she had “wet tail”, which is a common hamster ailment. But the more I examined her and researched it, the more I felt that wasn’t the case. But she was lethargic and sleepy eyed, and so we took her to the vet the following day.

They had no real idea what was wrong with her. Maybe bladder stones or some sort of UTI, like I thought, or maybe cancer (although she’s really too young) or maybe some sort of injury, although we couldn’t imagine how she could have been injured.
They gave us antibiotics and lacto bacillis, and we went home and I started administering medication twice daily, along with hand watering and feeding as needed to make sure she was eating and drinking.
Nothing changed for the first several days and I called the vet, and the said I could get an anti-inflammatory in case it was an injury. She seemed better when I came back and gave it to her, but then almost seemed worse in the following couple of days. Then she went back to how she was, still sick, but still eting and whatnot.
Then, a turn for the worse, on Sunday, I noticed that she was really soaked with pee, and that her back feet were noticeably covered in dried pee. I cleaned her up. On Monday, she felt cold to me. And maybe a little lighter, like she was eating, and maybe a little deydrated too. I gave her a treat, which she slowly tucked into her cheek, but a minute later, it popped right back out. She had no interest in it.
At that point, I didn’t think she’d make it through the night, adn i talked with Sage about that possibility, or the fact that i might have to take her to the vet and she might not come back.

In the morning, she was still with us, but definitely not any better. Maybe worse. I thought about calling the vet to take her in and just end it, but ultimately, I couldn’t. She didn’t seem to be in any serious discomfort, just that she was fading, so I thought, why not nature take it’s course?

And I wrapped her in a little towel because she seemed so cold, and when Sage came home, I told him what I day, thought, and he seemed okay with that. All that I’d mostly let her alone, not trying to make her eat or drink, but that evening I decided that I might as well give her a delicious mixture of milk and yogurt to keep her belly full and her hydrated. She seemed a little better when I took her out to give it to her. At least she wasn’t soaked with urine, and she drank the mixture out of a little syringe eagerly enough.

This morning, she seemed maybe even a little better when I went up to give her her breakfast.
Yesterday, I was terribly sad, sure we’d lose her. Today, I looked into hamster injuries some more, and at this point am hoping that she broke a leg and that is what has caused her malaise, as it seems as though hamsters can actually easily recover from broken limbs, and in fact, giving her milk and other calcium rich items might actually help her heal faster.

At this point, I don’t know what to think, but at least I don’t feel too stupid about having some hope for her.

I awoke this morning at about 4 to a restless dog who would not settle down. As he continue to turn and turn and burrow and whatever, I woke up a little more and realized that I heard sirens in the distance. A LOT of sirens. But they weren’t close enough for me to bother getting up to investigate, and finally, I dozed back off a little.
After going through the daily “get Alex up” ritual, I dozed back off again, but reawakened, this time to a terrible smell. At first, I thought perhaps it was burning toast/er, or oven, but after a few minutes decided it was the heater, which had kicked on. After a couple more minutes, I got up to see what was up. I found Alex in the garage, investigating the disgusting smell, which smelled the burning hair mixed with melting plastic. He turned the furnace completely off, and I went back to bed, only to have dog get all barfy mere seconds later. I jumped back up, scooped him up and outside, where I discovered that the wretched stench was outside. The air was thick and smoky, and I realized that there must be a fire nearby. I could see an orange-ish glow in the air in the direction I’d heard sirens from.

It didn’t take long to discover what was burning, a couple of little restaurants and a coffee shop a few blocks away. None of the news websites had much info, but the good ole neighborhood blogs did.
I wanted to comment on the situation, but refrained as I have for the past couple of months or so.

Even though the blogs themselves are a great source of information, most of the people who leave comments are entitled assholes who are better than everyone else and LOVE to argue on teh internets. And we all know what THAT is like.

The Phinneywood blog isn’t as bad as the MyBallard blog, but as they are associated and there is some crossover, I just don’t bother saying anything on either one anymore.

So after I received yet another comment notification for an old comment thread that should have died months ago, and the comment response was just stupid, I decided I was going to delete my profile for the system and all of the comments. I certainly was not going to try to explain to some troll that they should probably read the entire comment before they reply, and that they should check their dates, and not make assumptions about how long I have lived here.
The comment system is thwarting my efforts, though. Even though it acts as if I am logged in in a lot of ways, it won’t let me delete the comments, much less the profile. I contacted the blog owners, and hopefully, it will all be gone soon.

Like so many other online communities I have attempted to participate in over time, this one also is just like high school. Filled with ignorance and selfishness, and cliques. I had hoped that this would be different since we all live in pretty much the same neighborhood, and affected by the news posted on the blog, but NO. I would almost say it is worse, because these are people you could run into at the grocery store. If I have something to say, I can say it here, in the privacy of my own interweb.