This post came up on my FB Memories a few days ago and it made my heart shudder. It darn near broke all over again. That hamster.
I went back and read the Letter from the Lowveld 4 mentioned in the post again from top to bottom (Read it HERE), reliving the decision to get Charlie a hamster, not being able to find any hamsters, a solution with about a hundred moving parts, and the reward of the delight and comfort that that little furry creature brought to Charlie.
And then.
I haven’t been able to write about it because processing was hard. And heavy. And I might need a glass of wine to get through it now.
It happened. Just like I joked in that Letter.
The cat ate the hamster.
The beloved hamster. Charlie’s first pet that belonged solely to him. That he loved, cared for and took responsibility for every day, while his heart was broken, lonely and longing for his friends.
And it was all my fault.
The night it happened, I was watching tv and became aware of the hamster, Nibbles was her name. She wormed her way into my heart even, teaching me to love a rodent, something I didn’t think I could or would do.
Nibbles was watching me, climbing the bars of her cage. I felt sorry for her – caged and clearly frustrated. So I opened up and tried to placate her with some treats. I closed the cage again and put the pegs on to hold the door.
But obviously not properly. She must have climbed again, driven by frustration and a desire for freedom, and escaped into the waiting jaws of the cat.
Who was Always Watching.
The empty cage was discovered the next morning during final chores before leaving on the school run. The whole family instantly initiated a chaotic search, but the blood-smears on the floor quickly answered our questions.
I won’t take you through the tears and sadness, nor the guilt I felt in the days afterwards, emphasised every time I See Nibbles’s cage, which Charlie still refuses to deal with.
I will say how proud we were of Charlie for wiping his tears away and walking into school that morning. That he never once blamed me, says a lot about that little boy’s character. And that he only made two threats on Lulu’s life. That I know of…
I would like for you all to bear witness to the fact that when Andrew commented that the way Charlie cared for that hamster showed that he was more than ready to have a puppy of his own, I categorically said “No dear, I don’t think that’s a good idea for us as a family right now.”
Or something along those lines…
That week was rounded out by Ben developing asthma (receiving a call from the school saying “your child can’t breathe, don’t panic but please get here” won’t go down as a highlight), Charlie projectile vomiting in the bathroom and Andrew & I setting the oven on fire. Small things really.
Someone once said to me “everyone has a traumatic hamster story” and no doubt one day we will look back on ours and find lightness in it. But that is not quite this day.
Til then, I’ll laugh over the oven fire!