Saving Hamsters

When I was in Year 7 I decided to raise hamsters. I bought a boy hamster and a girl hamster and waited for the inevitable.
The morning after the first litter of hairless hamsters were born I carefully added food to the dish and water to the bottle for the parents. I realized it was cold on my desk where the aquarium was resting. So, I picked it up and moved it to the window where the morning sun could warm the babies and parents.

When I returned from school I was heartbroken to find the sun had mercilessly cooked all of the babies. The mum and dad were fine. But the heat had been too much for the fragile newborns. All seven were dead. I felt horrible. It was my fault. If only I would have left them on the desk. Yes, they needed sun. But they also needed protection from the sun.

When the next litter was born I devised a plan. I arranged the aquarium so only half would get sun. Then they could get some sun, but still have the freedom to move away from the sun. But the little babies didn’t get the point. They didn’t see the grand plan. They just sat there in the sun — and cooked.

When litter three was born, I added a new phase to my plan. I went to the fridge and got a piece of cheese. Then I went to the spice rack and got the black pepper, some coriander and a pinch of salt. It was perfect. I went and arranged myself so that I was sitting on the desk, leaning over the aquarium.

Then I ate the cheese.

It worked — slowly. But it worked. The mixture was perfect and I began to shrink. I held tightly to the aquarium as I shrunk. I went from full size to the size of a baby in a couple minutes. I kept shrinking. I swung a ken-doll sized leg over the edge of the aquarium. I dropped into the hamster’s home as I continued to shrink. Soon, I was the size of a baby hamster — my eyes closed tightly. I curled into a ball and the final phase of my incarnation medication kicked in. I grew four little pink feet, a really cute wiggly nose and then fur. Finally, I grew with a burst into an adult hamster. I looked just like the hamsters. But I still had all my human smarts.

I went to the little baby pinkies and said, “Hey guys, spend a bit of time in the sun and then move into the shade. Don’t get cooked like those who have gone before you.” They just stared back at me – with closed eyes and wiggling noses. I tried again, “The sun is hot! The sun – that big round thing out the window – it gets really hot. It’ll warm you up. But, then you’ve got to move! Ok?” Had they understood? I couldn’t tell.

The parents came to examine the new hamster who had dropped from above. They waddled up to me and nuzzled me. Suddenly I had a thought, These are the parents! The guardians of the little ones. I’ll tell them! So, I did.

They didn’t seem impressed. Their response baffled me. They said, “You’re wrong. That’s not why the babies die. They just die. They all die. Death is inevitable — nothing we can do about it. And we reckon, why not die warm. So, we put them in the sun while they die.” I was dumbfounded. I tried to correct their misconceptions. It’s the sun that’s killing them! They didn’t like my ideas. Who was I to correct them?

I began picking up the babies in my little bucktoothed mouth and carrying them to the cool corner. The parents squeaked uncontrollably. As I dropped a baby in the shade and headed back to pick up the next one, the mother would grab the one I’d just dropped and move it back into the sun. It was useless, but I kept trying. And trying. And they kept ruining my every attempt.

In a moment of hamster-boy brilliance, I had another idea.

I began furiously pulling out all my hair. The two adult hamsters stopped scurrying and watched me in fascinated horror. I ripped out every bit of hair that I could reach with my teeth. Then I explained, “You are adults. You have hair. Your hair protects you from the sun. Watch.” Then I lay down in the sunny corner, on top of the babies, protecting them from the sun. I began to get hot. Very hot. My breath started to speed up. My back stung where the sun seared my hairless skin. My breath became like inhaling fire. Finally it was too much and my little hamster body died.

The parents saw me stop breathing. They approached carefully and sniffed. I was dead. They pushed their noses against me and rolled me off of their little ones. Then they buried me with sawdust.

Moments later my dead body began to pulse. It began to swell. Life returned to me. But I was stretching out of my hamster shape. The parents watched my transformation in confusion — how could they understand? Soon, I was back to the shape of a boy. As I grew tall enough I grabbed the side of the aquarium and climbed over onto the desk. I continued to grow until I was back to my normal size. I hopped off the desk and knelt down to look through the glass.

What effect had my example had? Had my death accomplished anything? What would the parents do?

I watched with joy as the father and mother hamster gently picked up their babies and moved them into the shade. It had worked! My death had given life to my little creatures. And my example had forever changed the reality of two furry little parents.