It all started a few weeks ago when my sister Laura came to stay with us for a few days while Adam was working a lot. Whenever I play with Laura, I have lots of fun and sometimes crazy things happen like painting new art for my wall, crazy expensive pedicures (we didn't realize they were charging per toe...), painting her dining set to resemble Cafe Rio chairs-that one turned out really cute. Anyway, we went to Petco in Sugarhouse to watch her roommate Summer's little hamster compete in the Hamster Olympics. She was actually grateful that we showed up with Jack so that she wasn't the only college student beating out a bunch of nine-year-olds for a little plastic trophy. We had so much fun cheering her hamster, named Michael Phelps, who ended up taking first place and winning his own hampster race track.
Summer and Laura told me that Jack absolutely needed a hamster of his own and that it would be so easy to take care of and Jack would learn responsibility... bla..blabbidy..bla..bla..bla... So I bought a cage, a miniature hamster, and some recycled fluff stuff for bedding. On our way home I texted Adam and asked how he felt about very small animals and he wrote back, "I hate them why??" We brought our hamster home and surprised him and, like the great Daddy that he is, he was an excellent sport.
When I asked Jack what our hamster should be named he said, "Michael Phelps." Since our hamster is a she, we tried to talk him into more appropriate names like Ginger, Suzie, Gidget, or Janet Evans but he wouldn't hear of it. So our hamster is Michael Phelps too, and I don't think that she minds all that much. In my mommy heart, I had envisioned that we would all hold our little hamster and he would crawl up our arms and we would hand feed him carrots, raisins, and apples, but it seems that our Michael Phelps thinks that anything that enters his cage is edible and must be nibbled- especially fingers. So that combined with the storekeeper putting Michael Phelps in Jack's hands and him getting scratched has made Jack terrified of Michael Phelps. Adam has been bit and now will only pick him up with a dish towel. I am trying to train him to go into his ball on his own so he can run and we can clean his cage. I hate cage cleaning! Summer said she cleans hers once a week, but Michael Phelps poops a lot! We call his wheel the "poop flinger." His whole corner of the room stinks and since Adam is claiming immunity because getting a hamster was not his idea, I get to clean it several times a week. Just what I needed, one more thing to take care of. What happened to my visions of a loving pet family? Maybe we are just not ready for pets- after all, before we had children, we practiced on fish and had a 75% mortality rate. Speaking of fish, you really need to read my sister Laura's narration on our other Petco purchase that day: Feeder Fish.
(Just for clarification, I don't think the real Michael Phelps stinks, I think he is an amazing athlete with big flipper feet,
and since we wanted our hamster to take the GOLD and be speedy speedy, we figured it a suitable name)
5 comments:
See now this is the exact reason I don't have any pets. Plus at the moment we're not allowed in our living situation.
Good luck man.
I know that stink.
You are so hilarious! I had miniature hamsters when I was in high school and loved them. They are a lot of work though. Just be glad you have only one. We had two, and discovered too late that they were not two boys... At least the little babies survived long enough to sell them back to the store!
This story had me laughing so much! I think you just convinced me to never have a pet. Ever.
Maybe I could have Sommer come out and train your Michael Phelps. Her Michael Phelps used to bite but doesn't anymore. I don't know how she trained him.
You are funny! I enjoyed this post. I am not an animal lover and Heston and Roslyn are, but I am the boss right now, so we only have a dog that sleeps outside.
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