Maddy has an unfortunate streak with hamsters.When she was a kid, she treated her pet to a luxurious bubble bath, only to find that hamsters don't stay afloat very easily. The second was hugged a little to hard - think of the nurturing but overbearing tendency of Lenny in Of Mice and Men. The third victim was fed a carrot; harmless enough. But Maddy supposed he might also require a knife to chop his dinner up. He slashed himself on it instead.
When we acquired John McPhee, Maddy was reluctant, but agreed to keep him, as long as he wasn't her responsibility. Salma and I roared 'Aye' to that (with one eye shut and in the affirmative, husky voice of a hamster-pirate comrade) on behalf of the McPheester. When he went missing, she spent two nights away, afraid she might step on him, sit on him or by some other fateful means, kill yet another. It comes as a surprise, then, that after a long 49-hour stretch of hiding, J-Mac mad his first appearance upon her return, in a midnight scramble across her bedroom rug, from one corner of the room to his hiding place under the bed. Maddy had only been home an hour or so, and might have mistaken him for a 'ghost of hamsters past' if it weren't for his distinguising missing eyeball.
She woke me in a start, fearful of catching him herself and, well, pulling a Lenny again - so I hustled to her room where we caught him mid-flight across the rug and replaced him safely in his cage. I might have felt guilty, reincarcerating McPhee, if it weren't for the ravenous state we found him in - he immediately stuffed his cheeks like a melon, washed it down with the complete bowlful of water, and then nestled himself in his favourite corner, curled into a foetal position and fell fast asleep.
We all slept well last night. Especially Maddy, who has finally broken the haunting curse.
