I feel awful. Hamlet died yesterday. He had Wet Tail. We didn’t notice the gooey tail until the night before. I told Lara I would call the vet first thing in the morning. But in the morning we found him curled up, dead.
We missed all the signs; the excessive pooping, the hunching, though at one point Lara said she heard him groan. Otherwise he seemed fine. He was quite perky. He let Lara hold him for which I’m immensely grateful.
Wet Tail is the result of stress. From leaving mother, living in pet shop, coming home to new owner, being handled…a lot. We loved Hamlet to death. I feel just horrible. I should have protected him.
At least I didn’t have to discuss the bottom line with my children, i.e. the cost analysis of going to a vet and paying £100 to fix a £10 hamster. The thing is, I would have probably done it.
I miss the little guy. I miss stroking his little paws. There is something comforting about a house full of pets. At bedtime I go around the house, tucking sleeping kids back under their covers, filling budgie water bottles, making sure Testtube alien lights are glowing red and until last night, saying good night to Hamlet as he nibbled on his honey/egg treat.
So good bye, Hamlet. I am so sorry. May you rest in peace now.
The budgies on the other hand live on and on and on…
Photo by Special (flickr)
Hamlet the hamster arrived home today. He is the birthday present for my daughter. She has been relentless in its pursuit.
Personally I’m not into rodents behind bars but we can’t have a dog because we travel too much. We tried fish and they died. We have budgies (don’t like birds behind bars either but at some point you figure it’s them or your peace of mind and you go for your mind). The budgies will have nothing to do with us. They sit and chirp and make a racket and a huge mess. I swear they pluck each other and toss the feathers out of the cage when I’m not looking just to make me pick up after them. And they shit everywhere. When I pointed out to my daughter that we already have pets big tears welled in her eyes. ‘But they don’t let me hold them, they ignore me.’ Which is true. It’s like having two love sick teenagers who slobber all over each other but can’t be bothered to even grunt in your direction. So I have relented and Hamlet is now installed.
Let’s hope it ends better than our last hamster, Marmite, who fell from the top stair in the middle of the night. I found him the next morning. Won’t go into details because my kids might read this and they were given a different version of events. Suffice to say the real story involved two frantic parents, a pot full of water and a blow dryer. There will be a scene in my next book about it.