Mom blog: The pet store

So where did we spend last night? In the pet store, where else. In my past intense experience of hamsters, one should replace it within 24 hours. There is nothing to be gained by waiting for a few days. A cat passes? A dog dies? You do your research, you discuss, you consider the breeds, their characteristics, strengths and weaknesses. Hamster? Got cage, food, fluff, shavings, water bottle, a pink Sailor Moon palace? You just race to the pet store.

The only rethinking had been done ages before, in fact as soon as Nibbles starting looking silvery and was past the time the books said Siberian hamsters live. The only decision was to get a teddy bear hamster. What you lose in tiny cuteness, you make up in years of life—three, usually, instead of 12 to 18 months for the Siberian. It didn’t take dancer girl long to pick out her favourites—a scruffy white-haired rodent with red eyes (oh, yes, Mummy liked that one), and a champagne-coloured one with dark eyes and an intense get-me-the-hell-out-of-here look. He/she climbed on top of every food dish, sleeping hut and other hamster in there in a fruitless attempt to reach the top of the cage and sweet escape.

Oh, we were a happy family exiting that store. She had the hamster, little brother had been declared uncle, my almost 14-year-old, who had applied to that very store at a job fair the previous weekend, had an excellent excuse to talk to a very pretty girl who sold us the hamster. He asked what it was like working there, what jobs she got to do, asked if she got to feed the baby birds. And I was happiest, because NOT ONE OF THEM TRIED TO TALK ME INTO A RABBIT OR A DOG OR IGUANA OR CHINCHILLA OR GECKO OR PARROT OR FERRET. That has never happened before in a pet store. Things are looking up!!


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