How To Break A Hamster Wheel

A fond memory unearthed only recently. Enjoy!

All Good Things...

The Mighty Family is sorry to bid a fond farewell to Peanut, the hamster, who recently passed away. She is survived by nine offspring (or more if my hunch is correct) and a family who loved her dearly. I never thought I could hold any affection for a hamster; I was wrong. In lieu of flowers the family requests that you go give your pet a cuddle.

Do you know this lady?

The woman at U.S. Immigration was quite serious, though she sported a friendly smile that confused Emma the Brave. Emma gave me a look as if to say, 'Is this a joke?'

The immigration woman dropped her smile and asked Emma again, "Do you know this lady? Who is she?"

Emma giggled but didn't answer. She looked at me. I patted her on the shoulder. "You need to tell her who I am, Sweetie, it's important"

Emma finally confessed that I was her mommy and the woman moved on to Mighty Mouse. During the previous exchange, Mouse had been so focussed on blowing the perfect bubble that she'd hadn't heard a thing.

"Who's this lady?" the woman asked.

Mighty Mouse burst out laughing. (Obviously, I should have prepared the girls a little better for this portion of the trip.) The woman let her calm down before asking again.

"She's mommy," said Mighty Mouse, still grinning.

"Do you want to go to Switzerland?" the woman asked.

Mouse's smile disappeared and she went suddenly quiet. My heart sank. She was coming off three weeks packed with every fun thing her extended family could think of and more sugar that she's ever eaten in her life. I swear I could see her recounting each and every event as we all waited for her response. After what seemed like forever she nodded, still staring at her Crocs.

The immigration lady was not convinced. Neither was I. "Why do you want to go to Switzerland?" the woman probed.

Mighty Mouse looked up at the lady and her smile returned. "To see my hamster," she said.

The immigration lady handed me our passports. "Have a nice trip."

On The Ball

Admit it: you can't get enough of the hamster pix!
Photo credit for the above goes to the Captain.
(Thanks for the plug, DL!)

Old Dog, New Trick

Presenting the Palace

Peanut broke her exercise wheel yesterday. To be honest, it's a wonder it lasted as long as it did. When the babies were around--and not sleeping or nursing--there would be a minimum of three pups on the wheel at any one time. It's maximum capacity appeared to be six unless Peanut exerted her territorial rights and climbed aboard. At those times, the only babes not flung to the wood chips were those trapped behind or beneath her. The wheel's popularity resulted in a near constant nocturnal rumble which, in turn, necessitated the litters' exile to the guest room. Yet, even with the door closed, reverberations could be heard throughout the house. Discovering the axle snapped at its base came as only a mild surprise. It was only a matter of time.

After breakfast, the girls and I hopped in the car in search of a new wheel. We came home with a split-level palace. The new cage could accommodate a wheel nearly twice the diameter of the old one. Now Peanut could run without craning her neck, thereby improving her quality of life immeasurably. Coconut and Pineapple, eat your hearts out!

That evening the Captain came home from work to discover Peanut's new quarters. After conceding to it's obvious superiorities, his comment was: "It wasn't really necessary."

I reminded him that a hamster wasn't really necessary either.

(As much as I love Peanut, I will never let the Captain live down buying a pregnant hamster.)

Empty Nesting

The day has finally come: Patches, the last of Peanut's nine babies, has left the nest.

It's been an amazing experience for the whole family, these hamster pups. Peanut was quite the little mother, nursing her crew almost non-stop for two weeks before weaning could begin. I couldn't help but wonder if she'd done it before. If not, I sure could have used instincts like hers seven years ago. That said, it's clear that Peanut is ready go solo again. (She's been caught pinning Patches to the wood chips as if to say, "My cage. My wheel.") As for the rest of us, we won't be forgetting them any time soon.

Bye, guys! You'll be missed.

And Then There Was One

Seven weeks have passed since Peanut's surprise, nine-pup litter. Thanks to my concerted marketing efforts--which included a rather embarrassing radio appearance where my hamster-sexing skills were put up for hire--I've found homes for all but one girl. Not bad, I'd say, but the search for one more adoptive home continues.

It all began on Day 25 when I drove Biscuit, a girl, and Ferb, a boy, to their new home on the other side of the lake. FYI: in adolescent e-mail speak, 'I don't have a car,' really means, 'I'm not old enough to drive.' I was given strict assurances that they would not be bred. That said, if an advertisement pops up in about three weeks for hamster pups in Coppet, beware.

A few days later, Freddie and Abricot, the two remaining boys, were picked up and brought to their separate adoptive homes--both with young families--leaving us with five girls and the peace of mind that comes from knowing there were no more surprises in the pipe.

Next went Coconut and Pineapple. Now, these two are living proof that the world's inequities extend to hamster-dom. They have not one, not two, but three different cages, each with their own decor. "So that they won't get bored," says the owner. Hmm... I think someone needs a new hobby.

Noisette and Amandine were the last, going to an absolutely lovely woman who works as a nanny. They watch television with her from their cage when she's not giving them the run of her apartment. She has them on baby hamster food until they're ready for the grown up stuff--the stuff I'd been letting them eat since three weeks of age.

So that leaves one. Despite all our efforts to not get attached, we've named her Patches. Cute, eh?

Joy Ride

Chickpea stepping out of the Hamster Hot Rod

The Hamster Road Show

I took the hamsters on their first road trip today, to the school where I volunteer. As you can well imagine, they made quite the impression. I was deliberately open about the fact that the babies were up for adoption, that they needed homes--and soon. After I told this to the first grade class, a boy with a very serious face put up his hand. "Why don't you want to keep the hamsters? Don't you like them?" he asked.

I explained that Syrian hamsters are solitary animals, that, like leopards, they prefer to live alone. "Once they grow up, they'll begin to fight and would probably hurt each other." Or get frisky, I don't add. "I'll keep Peanut, of course."

He nodded and his frown dissolved. For a second there, I don't think he liked me very much.

Kids clamored for a chance to pet Peanut and the babies and, thankfully, the hamsters were more than obliging. Despite this being a poorly disguised ploy to off-load the rest of the litter, it turned out to be quite educational. Questions flew faster than I could answer them. The kids learned that hamsters are mammals, but also rodents whose front teeth grow throughout their lives much like human hair and fingernails. They also learned that hamsters are nocturnal, that they're herbivores, and, thanks to multiple impromptu demonstrations, that they pee and poop without warning.

But despite all my carefully worded explanations, some kids were left a bit confused. As I departed the kindergarten class, one girl stopped me to ask, "So, if someone takes a hamster, do they get to keep it forever?"

"Sort of," I said, "Hamsters don't live forever. These ones only live about two or three years. "

"Yes, but do they have to give it back?"

My mind leaped to the image of this child returning her dead hamster to me in two years time.

"No. They'd keep it forever."

In the words of Mighty Mom the First, "Keep it simple, very simple."

Truth Be Told...

...I'm going to miss the little rodents when they're gone.

Five of the nine have homes to go to and all the boys are spoken for--apparently males tend to be more docile than females. From my experience, the boys pee on you every time you pick them up--not an endearing trait in my book, but to each his own.

We'll be taking them to school next week so the girls can show their classmates and so that I can work in some underhanded marketing tactics. All's fair in love, war and hamsters.

(They don't call me Mighty Mom for nothing!)

Desperate Times

I've posted signs at the girls' school and the school I volunteer at. I've had friends post signs at their children's schools. I even put an add on the on-line classifieds and another in the Captain's corporate community newsletter. But despite all these efforts, I've only found homes for four of Peanut's nine babies. Oh, sure, there's time. After all, puberty is a solid three weeks away. But still...

I was all set to call into the 'on-air' classifieds program on the English radio station this morning. Ten minutes before it was scheduled to start, I turned on my radio. Nothing. Just static. Figuring the kitchen radio was at fault, I went out to the car. Nope. Finally, I tried the computer. No goods. It was official: the bloody station was, for some unknown reason, off the air.

Damn!

I listened to static for quite a few minutes before I realized that any sensible person would have changed stations by now, so even if they miraculously began transmitting again before the hour was up, I'd be advertising the pups to virtually no one.

GRRRR!

Something I Never Thought I'd Do...

... is learn to sex hamsters.

Three male; six female.
Only four have homes.

Oh, Give Me a Home...

Two down; seven to go.

Crowded House

I'm one leg into my first pair of shorts of the season when I hear, "Mommy! Come see!"

This has become a common refrain around here ever since Peanut, our hamster, had pups. But this time, the girls sound a bit panicked.

It takes me only a second to see what all the excitement is about: three of the pups have somehow made it out of the nest, down the network of tubes and onto the cage floor; another two are stranded half-way down; the rest are under Peanut who is fast asleep.

How did the pups manage that distance with their eyes still decidedly closed? And why wasn't Peanut coming to their rescue? In the past eleven days we've spent a lot of time watching Peanut's incredible maternal instincts--nursing her young, keeping them warm, and retrieving them when they fall from the nest. To see the pups so far from her watchful eye is disturbing.

I run my fingers along the side of one of the vertical tubes, our signal to her that food is on the way. She gets off the nest and makes her way down, walking right past her stranded pups. We peek into the nest. There four more in there, making nine in total--our first truly reliable head count since they were born. Peanut inspects her food dish, drinks some water, then heads back up to the nest... pup-less.

That's not right.

I quickly catapult to my own conclusion: the nest is too small. Not only is space an issue, but airflow. Two days ago, Peanut closed access to the nest on one side to keep the pups from falling out-- a brilliant, yet potentially suffocating solution. Perhaps Peanut had instinctively begun to move house, unloading five of the pups before running out of steam. One thing is for certain: left where they are, the pups will die.

'Don't disturb the nest for at least 2 weeks,' say all the websites.

But what if the nest isn't safe?

'Disturb the nest and the hamster mother may eat her young.'

What if over half of them will die without her?

I reach for the cage.

"What are going to do?" asks Emma.

"Watch."

The girls kneel close as I disassemble the tube system, sending pups tumbling softly to the cage floor. Peanut follows them out, visibly upset. The pups wriggle fiercely. I put the lid on the cage and sit back on my heels. Let the carnage begin.

Peanut sprints about the cage floor, filling her cheeks with the food she had stored in the nest. When they're full, she runs in circles like she can't decide where to put it. Finally, she disappears under the green shelf that holds her water bottle and hear a soft clatter as she unloads. She repeats this once--twice--three times.

"But what about the babies?" asks Mouse.

"Wait," I say, though I'm thinking the same thing.

So we wait. After what seems like forever, Peanut picks up a pup by the hind leg. It squeaks. I look for blood. There's none. Peanut carries the pup under the shelf then reappears instantly and goes for another. In fact, she does it nine times.

"Yey, Peanut," say the girls.

"Good girl, Peanut."

Then Emma asks, "Mommy, why do you have only one leg in your shorts?"

Oh!

Eight is Enough

We're watching Peanut clean the nest when Mighty Mouse asks for the umpteenth time, "Can't we keep them?"

"No, sweet pea, we can't."

The latest count is eight--eight hamster pups who, in about four weeks time, will be capable of making still more hamster pups. The current litter is still mostly pink, but beginning to sport a fine white fuzz of fur. They're getting so big that Peanut can barely contain them under her belly. Any day now their eyes will open and they'll begin to roam. To date we've had only one parent commit to adopting a hamster. With seven homes left to find, I can't help but feel nervous.

Later, as we're walking to school, Mouse asks,"But what if they don't want to leave their mommy?"

I explain that, in the wild, Syrian hamsters like Peanut and her babies don't live together. "They'd end up fighting, sweetie."

She nods but looks sad. After a minute she stops and says, "I want to decide who gets them."

"The babies?"

"Yes."

I think for a minute as we start walking again. What criteria does a five-year-old use to determine if a family is hamster-worthy?

"Alright, you can help decide who gets them. Emma the Brave, too."

"Yeah!" She lets go of my hand and skips ahead to tell her sister.

The New Arrivals

Okay, so Peanut had been looking a little chubby around the mid-section. How were we to know she was pregnant?

Just to bring everyone up to speed, yesterday morning the girls' recently acquired pet hamster gave birth to a wriggling pink pile of pups. We'd had her nine days. There might be nine pups.

Getting a hamster was Kirk's idea. I wasn't so keen. To me, a hamster sounded like a kind of conciliatory pet--the one you settle for when your parents say no to the dog, cat or iguana you really wanted. We already had a dog, so I didn't see the point. But after months of unmanly whimpering, I finally conceded. After all, how much work could one hamster be?

Well, it turns out that a hamster that's just had a litter of pups is more worry than work. For at least the next two weeks the nest must remain undisturbed. We'll feed Peanut and she'll nurse the pups, but cleaning the cage is out of the question. This, of course, frees us up for the worry: finding homes for the wee ones before they start getting frisky. We've got 28 days.

Any takers?

Trouble with a Capital "H" x 9

"Babies! Mommy, Peanut had babies!"
"She what?"

"Just so we're clear...

...I was here first."

Move Over, Honey...

...Peanut's come to town.

Peanut at the Buffet.

Peanut's Condo

Peanut Taking a Siesta

Peanut Planning to Take Over the Planet
One Exercise Wheel at a Time

Welcome, little one!