Dot, my son's dalmatian hamster, passed away in the middle of the night. I heard a wheezing noise but thought it was Ginger snoring oddly, or maybe trying to get my attention with super-loud sighing.

This morning we overslept. It's standardized test week, so not the best week to be sleeping in for the boys. Then, as my oldest looks in to tell his hamster goodbye before heading out the door, he notices she's laying there not moving. They were about twenty minutes late for school after everyone calmed down and stopped sobbing. I gave them the option of staying home and they chose to go on to school, which makes me proud.

I went to Petco first thing after dropping them off (as instructed by my son) and got him a new hamster. This one's a male fancy dwarf -- tan with white legs and belly, a dark brown stripe down his back and red eyes, like a white mouse. I was told to get five white mice. I plan to tell my son (with fingers crossed behind my back) that those mice are just feeding mice, and that the woman at Petco said they don't make great pets.

When I got home, Ginger's hind end was wagging with great force while I cleaned the old cage and set up the new guy. We went outside and had a small funeral for Dot. Now, the hamster was wrapped in napkins and the whole thing was in a gallon sized ziploc bag rolled up and sealed tightly, then put in a thin cardboard box. I get the hole halfway dug and hear noises coming from the box. ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG! I quickly take it out of the box and while the body isn't stiff, it's still unresponsive. There's no steam on the inside of the bag from any breathing. So I put it back in the box and hear another slight noise. I prayed asking for a sign of the animal was still alive. And... nothing. The hole is completely dug by now. I drop the box in the hole (about two feet deep or so), cover it, and plant a hyacinth on top to mark the site. And ... I swear, it sounds like a baby animal whimpering from underneath the newly planted flowers. I called the fireman and was like, "ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG I THINK IT'S ALIVE AND I BURIED ITTTTT (wail, sob, etc.)!!!!!!!!!!!" He calmly and gently explained that being shuffled around in the box, it was probably just expelling gas. He said if it hadn't moved around inside its habitat in the few hours I was gone this morning, chances were it was really dead. Then he adds, "And if not, it was probably dying so you did a good thing, easing it to its final resting place." Great. I feel like I've been to the Kevorkian school of pet ownership, now.

Not too long after all this took place, Ginger and I went for a short walk and discovered that Patches has come home! (She left during the eight days we were out of town, and we've only spotted her a few times in the back yard since returning.) I put a cup of food in her dish and she purred loudly and rubbed against the tree until I backed off, then went over and wolfed everything down.

Then, Ginger and I spent the afternoon playing. I only saw her for about ten minutes total yesterday between being gone all day and then working last night (the fireman and the boys saw her, but not me) so she's been not letting me out of her line of vision too much. I filled her kong toy with new treats and she's brought me all of her toys, one at a time so we could test their durability. Then she flopped down at my feet and promptly fell sound asleep.

All the tragedy we've been through around here has been rough. Worse than rough. All weekend we waited to hear if my grandmother had lung cancer, and thank God it was just a lymph node. But she was in the hospital, and we were going back and forth, 45 mins each way to see her. But having the dog is different than all our other pets. She's just so awesome. Sometimes during the day I find myself talking to her and then laugh at myself when I realize she's staring at me as if she really understands. Maybe I'm just crazy. Heh. Having Ginger has been a huge help for me, though, and she's worth all the allergy meds.

Hugs, puppy dander, and sneezes,
Becky

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