Hampster Dance

A funny thing happened this morning when I arrived to pick up my youngest, Emma, and take her to her child care provider (babysitter) -- I now have a hampster living in my house.

He is brown.

His name is "Cuddles".

He rolls around my house in a clear, plastic ball.

He seems to sniff quite a lot.  I think that he has trouble with his sinuses.

I wonder if he can dance...

The Hampster Dance

The $100 Goldfish and the $75 Cat

In the past two months, my wife and I have spent nearly $200 on pets for our children.

We have also had two deaths in the family, Goldie and Midnight.  Midnight is a separate story all to herself.  That story is another story of death, deceit and fleas.  It will be addressed later.

It started so innocently. In early August at the Hartford Fair, my wife thought it would be a good idea for our older daughter, Sarah, to have a turn at the goldfish toss. You know, the silly little carnival game where one attempts to toss a ping-pong ball into a tiny goldfish bowl in the hope of winning a prized goldfish in a plastic bag. Two dollars for 12 balls. Given Sarah's relatively limited coordination, I felt like I was in the clear.

Much to my horror, the 11th ball skimmed off the top of one bowl, caromed off of another and landed gently in the middle of a third. She had won her prize. A disease ridden carp that would cost me nearly one-hundred dollars. Now I know how my parents felt nearly 25 years earlier when I had done the same thing.

To make a horrid story short, after naps that fateful afternoon of the fair, we all piled in the car to spend my hard-earned money at the local pet store. One tank, one filter, five pounds of gravel, some type of solution (that I still to this day have no idea what it was supposed to do and did not save the fish), a plastic cave and one pink, plastic plant. Grand total: $94.29.

Four days later, Goldie was dead. Found floating underneath the filter upon waking one morning. The subject of death became a distinct reality for a four year old and I was still out about a hundred bucks.

We buried him that afternoon in a small cardboard candy box by the Rose of Sharon bushes. A small service with a few kind words for our floating friend.

I'm pretty sure that the cats dug him up later for a snack.