Ben the hamster
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I bought Ben in a dingy pet shop near my workplace. The shopkeeper placed him in a thick newspaper bag. As I drove home, I heard the shuffling of paper and knew that Ben was nibbling furiously at his paper prison. The moment I reached home, I took the paper bag out of my car and found a hole in the bag but no hamster.
Yes, Ben was a golden hamster, my third hamster. When I got him, he was a feisty youngster and was about 1 ½ inches long. He had short hair, with red patches on a white coat. As an adult he grew to 4 inches in length with very large testicles that served as a cushion.
Back to his first day home, he had escaped from the paper bag. I yelled for my mom and dad to help me find my new hamster. Our search involved removing my front two car seats, uncovering the car carpets and after an hour, my mom saw a white fluff dropped on the floor. She thought it was a used tissue paper and alerted me. I pounced on it and realized it was my hamster. My dad named the hamster Ben because he opines that Ben is a name for a big person, and this little fellow, has a personality far larger than his size.
Ben is no ordinary hamster for he thinks and behaves like a dog. My earlier contacts with him resulted in sharp bites on my finger. Eventually, the bites stopped and he allowed me to touch and handle him. Every evening when he is awake I would tap at the cage and call his name. Then I would carry him to the kitchen for a piece of bread. He would gouge down pieces and pieces of bread till his cheeks were full and bulging. Then when he returned to his cage, he used his paw to pick out the pieces of bread. After a few weeks of doing this, I noticed that he started to expect that and waited at the cage door or bit at the door if I don’t come. This became our routine.
My Dad took a liking to Ben as well and dutifully assumed this routine as he cradled Ben in his palm and cooed while walking to the kitchen for bread.
As Ben became tamer, I would place him on the dining table each evening as I study. When I tapped on the table, he would walk towards me, through the piles of books, even though he was at the far side of the table. I started to carry Ben’s cage to my bedroom, closed my bedroom door and leave Ben’s cage door open. I could hear him scuttling around the bedroom and sometimes up my mattress and over my head.
I found out that Ben responses to his own name when I lost him for the first time. When I discovered that he was not in his cage, I called out his name frantically. Then I heard faint squeaks coming from the store room. When I went in, I saw Ben’s tiny head bobbing out from the very depths of our store room. He was standing on his hind legs and squeaking his reply as I called out to him. I knew that I could not get to him. So I kept on calling him, and tapped on the floor. Ben amazingly, walked through our storeroom’s maize of vases, cartons of books, a copper wok, shoes, towards me. He was covered in dust and cob webs.
When my sister gave birth to my nephew (her first born), my Dad and I called my brother in law in New York to congratulate him and asked what he intends to name his son. He mentioned Ben.
I also found out that Ben can walk at heel. In the safety of my bedroom, he would follow me around the bedroom like a puppy.
One evening I was carrying Ben on my shoulders downstairs. He fell from my shoulders and bounced off a few steps before landing on our concrete floor. He past away the next night. I was alone at home as my parents were in New York with my sister and her new born. I called my brother in law and told him that Ben had died. I was sobbing badly and he immediately passed the phone to my Dad. Dad consoled me and asked me to bury him in our garden. It was pouring cats and dogs that night as I dug a hole in our garden. I wrapped Ben’s body in a white tissue paper, filled the hole with petals and laid Ben to rest.
This goes to Ben, a hamster who wanted to be a dog.
Yes, Ben was a golden hamster, my third hamster. When I got him, he was a feisty youngster and was about 1 ½ inches long. He had short hair, with red patches on a white coat. As an adult he grew to 4 inches in length with very large testicles that served as a cushion.
Back to his first day home, he had escaped from the paper bag. I yelled for my mom and dad to help me find my new hamster. Our search involved removing my front two car seats, uncovering the car carpets and after an hour, my mom saw a white fluff dropped on the floor. She thought it was a used tissue paper and alerted me. I pounced on it and realized it was my hamster. My dad named the hamster Ben because he opines that Ben is a name for a big person, and this little fellow, has a personality far larger than his size.
Ben is no ordinary hamster for he thinks and behaves like a dog. My earlier contacts with him resulted in sharp bites on my finger. Eventually, the bites stopped and he allowed me to touch and handle him. Every evening when he is awake I would tap at the cage and call his name. Then I would carry him to the kitchen for a piece of bread. He would gouge down pieces and pieces of bread till his cheeks were full and bulging. Then when he returned to his cage, he used his paw to pick out the pieces of bread. After a few weeks of doing this, I noticed that he started to expect that and waited at the cage door or bit at the door if I don’t come. This became our routine.
My Dad took a liking to Ben as well and dutifully assumed this routine as he cradled Ben in his palm and cooed while walking to the kitchen for bread.
As Ben became tamer, I would place him on the dining table each evening as I study. When I tapped on the table, he would walk towards me, through the piles of books, even though he was at the far side of the table. I started to carry Ben’s cage to my bedroom, closed my bedroom door and leave Ben’s cage door open. I could hear him scuttling around the bedroom and sometimes up my mattress and over my head.
I found out that Ben responses to his own name when I lost him for the first time. When I discovered that he was not in his cage, I called out his name frantically. Then I heard faint squeaks coming from the store room. When I went in, I saw Ben’s tiny head bobbing out from the very depths of our store room. He was standing on his hind legs and squeaking his reply as I called out to him. I knew that I could not get to him. So I kept on calling him, and tapped on the floor. Ben amazingly, walked through our storeroom’s maize of vases, cartons of books, a copper wok, shoes, towards me. He was covered in dust and cob webs.
When my sister gave birth to my nephew (her first born), my Dad and I called my brother in law in New York to congratulate him and asked what he intends to name his son. He mentioned Ben.
I also found out that Ben can walk at heel. In the safety of my bedroom, he would follow me around the bedroom like a puppy.
One evening I was carrying Ben on my shoulders downstairs. He fell from my shoulders and bounced off a few steps before landing on our concrete floor. He past away the next night. I was alone at home as my parents were in New York with my sister and her new born. I called my brother in law and told him that Ben had died. I was sobbing badly and he immediately passed the phone to my Dad. Dad consoled me and asked me to bury him in our garden. It was pouring cats and dogs that night as I dug a hole in our garden. I wrapped Ben’s body in a white tissue paper, filled the hole with petals and laid Ben to rest.
This goes to Ben, a hamster who wanted to be a dog.
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