It’s blatant admission time.
For as a child, I had a small cute adorable little hamster named Sleepy. Yes, the lack of knowledge in my still growing brain had no idea that hamsters were “nocturnal” animals — who sleep all day and play all night. Yes, I went ahead and named him Sleepy because despite some nighttime fun and excitement, this little adorable apple-chunk eating fluff-ball was like an unemployed roommate in the daylight hours.
Yet sadly, I would be responsible for his ultimate sleep.
Still, I shouldn’t be held accountable for killing my hamster. There was never any autopsy or any vet who came to the scene of the crime, broke out their flourescent hand held blue-light thingie and determined that my drool had been found near the habitrail and that it was me who was responsible. I wasn’t pursued on my Big Wheel by local authorities. I woke up one morning, looked over at my little caged pal, and realized that he just wasn’t moving.
So I squirted water on his tail, big deal.
Here’s the thing. If you decided to build your home on top of, oh let’s say, an old Indian burial ground and then suddenly family members started to die because of the spirits and ghosts who were buried in that Indian burial ground, and you actually happened to know you were building your house on top of an old burial ground (unlike the family in Poltergeist who had no idea they were building their house on an old burial ground) then it’s your fault you and your family died while living atop Chief Walks With A Limp’s burial ground. It’s not the city’s fault (who owned the land before you) and it’s not the local law enforcement’s fault (just because they didn’t show up to help you) and it’s definitely not the fault of anyone in that neighborhood who saw what was going on and just didn’t help.
All. Your. Fault.
So if my hamster Sleepy happened to build his little home of wood chips right under his own water bottle right there in the corner of his little plastic cage…and if periodically I happened to squeeze that water bottle and watched giddily and adolescently as water hit his tail and made him do a little shiver-dance…who is to blame?
Because had you, Mr. I Can Build My Wood Chip Home Wherever I Want hamster, actually built your home on the opposite side of the little plastic cage then there’d be no dripping water on your tail, no potential sickness and definitely no death at the hands of your owner, some guy who will remain unnamed for this portion of this piece.
Yeah yeah, so you’re saying out loud to the screen something like, “Well dude, you were still the bratty little kid who squeezed the water. That’s like saying, if you build your home somewhere and then some kid breaks the damn upstream and it floods your house and kills everyone that it wasn’t your fault.”
Let’s not get carried away here, okay?
A hamster cage doth not equal a home downstream from a dam. But while we’re on the subject of building your home downstream from a dam, can we go ahead and agree that if you build your house on down stream from a dam, on stilts, near a fault line, right on the beach, in the hills of a country where guerillas often control the political system instead of the elected officials, or near a Chuck E. Cheese Pizza Time Theater — it’s your fault, no matter what happens.
That being said, I should not be held accountable for killing my hamster.
Was I sad when he died? Yes. Do I regret my potentially fatal actions as a child? Of course. Do I think that when my parents got me a second hamster it contained the very angry soul of the hamster I potentially killed and that’s why the second hamster was always trying to bite me, always trying to escape, and eventually did so in the walls of our family’s two story house? Probably. Was giving away the second hamster a way for me to forget the entire situation and wipe my hands clean of the situation? Well, yeah. And also because that second hamster was psycho.
Am I sorry? You betcha.
But I just can’t help it when I say that if hamsters were smarter they’d build their wood-chip beds in better places, and had Sleepy been a smart hamster such as that he probably would have lived at least a few years more. And again, who builds a house under a water bottle?
I mean, seriously.
(It’s obvious I still haven’t come to terms with this.)