r.i.p. furball

Well I knew it was just a matter of time. His days with us were numbered. The very first night we had him he escaped from his cage and I only found him because the cat was stalking him. Then last weekend I heard the cat playing with something up on the stairs and arrived just in time to keep the hamster from jumping off the landing. Thankfully, the cat seemed to understand the hamster was part of the family and he didn't use his claws or teeth when he let him out of his cage and batted him around.

But yesterday, was a very bad day. In the morning my son asked me to get the hamster out to play. He usually puts Furball on the table in the playroom and places different tubes and things around for him to climb through. He's an animal lover and has always been gentle and careful with him. So after getting Furball out I went back downstairs to work on bills. A few minutes later, my son asked if I would play with him and his hamster. I went upstairs and noticed right away that something was wrong. Furball was wheezing and kind of hiccupping. I immediately picked him up and put him back in his cage and told my son he needed to rest because it looked like he might be getting a cold. I went and called my husband who surmised that maybe the new wood shavings we'd put in his cage had been too dusty and were making him sick.

I hung up and went back into the playroom and spotted Furball in the fetal position on the floor of his cage. He was gasping and contorting and I could see in his eyes that he was not going to make it. I shooed my son out of the room and tried to collect myself. I asked my son if he knew of anything the hamster may have swallowed or if anything could have happened to change him from the healthy creature he had been just minutes before into the suffering, dying animal he had become. My son looked panicked and said, "Mom, take him to the vet! Maybe he has a bladder infection!" (Our cat had just had one a week before). I explained that he had something worse than that and I was afraid it was too late for the vet.

My son had never experienced the loss of a pet before, especially one that was his very own. One that Santa had brought just a month before. I didn't know how he would react but I didn't have to wait long to find out. First, he ran into the bathroom and locked the door saying, "I didn't do anything!!! Why did Santa bring him if he wasn't going to last long?!!!" It was heartbreaking. I got him to come out and calmly explained that it was not his fault, that hamsters are very fragile and I knew he would never have done anything intentional to hurt him. He said he felt sick so I fixed him a nest on the sofa and gave him some Coke, something we reserve for sick kids. I remembered reading in my Wonder of Boys book that boys often have delayed reactions to emotional situations and don't cry or immediately act out like girls do. They need some time and encouragement to process their emotions.

I went back in to check on the hamster and he was dead. Upon closer look, I saw there was blood on the wood shavings around his head. What on earth? Could dust have caused that??? After discussing it with my husband some more, we became convinced that our son had probably hurt him by accident. Maybe giving him a broken rib and punctured lung from dropping or squishing him. My husband felt strongly that we needed to get our son to tell us the truth or he would be eaten up with guilt forever.

So I went back my boy and told him the story of how I accidentally squished a frog with my knee and killed him when I was a little girl and how I felt so horrible but it really was an accident. He then told me that our cat had "laid on" the hamster and that must have been what happened. I told him that no matter what happened, I would love him and I knew he was a good kid and would never intentionally hurt an animal. His mood changed immediately. He still wouldn't confess to anything but he was very affectionate and friendly for the rest of the day.

I couldn't bear to touch the dead hamster so I left it in the cage until my husband got home. My son kept asking if it had gone to heaven yet. I explained that when people and animals die, our bodies are left behind and we could have a funeral for Furball if he wanted. That sent him spinning again. He flew into a rage and said he was going to leave the house for good. He stormed around acting totally unreasonable and we had to calm him down again. It was the first time I've seen one of my children in real emotional pain and it was everything I could do to keep from falling apart myself. I knew it would just make it worse for him to see me in tears. My husband told him it was okay to feel sad and mad and to cry when we lose things we love. He still remained stoic and angry and defiant. Just CRY!!! I wanted to yell. Get it out!!! But he just didn't.

I was feeling guilty and sad myself. I really liked that little hamster. I enjoyed feeding him and looking at him when he was all curled up in his nest. His tiny toes were perfect and cute. He was so energetic and hard working. If only I had not let my son play with him unsupervised. Why had I thought that a four year-old would always remember to be careful and not get curious about 'what might happen if...'

And because of my misjudgement, an innocent animal suffered a painful death and an innocent little boy is suffering a broken heart.

I guess it's one of those horrible lessons that comes along now and again. A lesson about life, death, trust, and pain.

I don't know if I'm tough enough for this.