| Willow,
my short-haired sable hamster, almost did not become part of our little
family. Visiting the same pet store from which I had purchased Zoë,
I spotted Willow amongst the teddy bear hamsters. She stood out for
a couple of reasons. One, she was a deep chocolate colour with white
feet, and a white stripe on her tummy that ran from her chin to her tail,
curled up in a sea of piebald, long-hairs. But more importantly,
when she climbed out of the mass of hamsters, she stopped dead in her tracks
and stared at me with the same intensity with which DJ used to do.
DJ would sit in my lap, and when I talked to her, she would stare at me
to the point that you could almost see the concentration on her face.
It was as if, somewhere in her little hamster brain, she felt that if she
could just focus hard enough, she would be able to understand what this
human was trying to communicate to her. And Willow peered at me with
that same look. But I was only standing on the other side of her
glass enclosure and had not said a word. I moved slowly to the opposite
side of the cage, testing to see if she really was looking at me.
Hamsters are notorious for having poor sight. But her little eyes
followed me. My only hesitation was that I was convinced she was
a he. The shape of her hind quarters hinted that this hamster was
a male, but without a closer examination, I couldn't be certain.
Besides, I had my heart set on another golden Syrian, with the original
agouti markings. The store clerk tried to assure me that Willow was
a female, but agreed to place an order for the type I have always owned.
This particular store receives
shipments of hamsters once every two weeks. In all, I made three
visits, and each time, there was little Willow, but not one golden Syrian.
On the last visit, August 11, 2005, I decided that this hamster was meant
for me. The animal and I had connected, and maybe a male would be
okay to have for a pet. But I got her home, and was able to confirm
that she was indeed a female.
And what a smart little animal
she is, again following in DJ’s foot steps. It took her less than
a minute to figure out how to navigate her ball, which really surprised
me, given she was now about 9 weeks old, and had never been outside her
“aquarium” cage. There wasn't even an exercise wheel in her pet store
house. I let her run through the kitchen in her ball and in short
order, she also figured out how to get the ball moving at just the right
angle to negotiate the ridge created where the carpet met the tiled floor.
She scampered around the entire house for about an hour while I prepared
her cage.
Introducing Willow to her
new home was effortless. I opened one of the side doors, removed
the lid from the ball, and she scurried in, immediately locating the food
dish. For the next hour, she ran, seemingly mindless, through the
first “room”, into a tunnel, into the next room, into her bedroom, and
then she found her wheel. I believe that piece of equipment sent
her into hamster ecstasy. She ran for two hours in the wheel, stopping
periodically to have a nap, but still not leaving the close quarters of
the wheel. I was becoming somewhat concerned that she hadn't had
anything to drink since moving to her new home. In the pet store,
they had just a bowl of water. Here, she had water bottles - two
of them - one each room. Would she be able to figure out how to use
them before she became dehydrated? Oh, and she loves to climb on
the wire rungs of the second part of her cage. I think this little
one is going to be a real escape artist.
Here we go again - Willow
has just plunked herself down in the middle of her cage and curled up to
sleep. She's not using her bedroom. Is this some weird trait
hamsters have when they're babies? About a week after introducing
Willow to her home, she finally decided to sleep in her “bed”. And
she is consistently using her toilet. Willow is a very active little
baby. She runs in her wheel until she literally drops. She
now tumbles out of her wheel and falls asleep immediately - doesn't even
try to get to her bed, or curl up in a corner, or under the logs, - just
flops right down in front of the wheel. She sleeps for about 15 minutes
and then she's up and running again. My little insomniac - Willow
didn't sleep much at all for the first two weeks.
By the time she was three
months old, Willow was consuming enormous quantities of food - twice what
Zoë used to eat. But she was actually afraid of ‘wet’ food -
bananas, apples, raisins - she just wouldn't touch anything that wasn't
dry. It was almost Christmas before she would finally try her first
taste of a raisin. It was early September 2005 that it became evident
Willow had finally learned her name. She now consistently comes to
you when you call her and is turning into a lovable little hamster.
She stands up on her hind legs and we touch noses - nose kisses - just
like DJ used to do.
June 2006 and this creature
has developed into a princess. I know … it's my own fault for spoiling
her. But she is just so easy to spoil. She must have her nest
in her bedroom changed every single day or she displays her disdain by
refusing to come out in the evening until I have spent a good 10 minutes
coaxing and cajoling her. It is definitely a case of the hamster
training the human.
Hamsters are unable to vocalize
like other pets, but my little girl has found a way to say ‘hello’ in the
evenings when I first greet her. She has a shelf in her home, approximately
3 inches wide and 12 inches long. It is here that she does her grooming
upon waking. I watch her from a distance, just out of her range of
sight, for a few minutes before speaking. Upon hearing my voice,
Willow greets me with a vigorous display of rolling on the shelf and wiggling
her legs in the air for about a minute, followed by a mad dash to her wooden
logs. She climbs atop the logs, with her feet resting on the edge
of the opening, and waits patiently for me to lift her out of her cage.
What a little sweetheart … her finicky behaviour is more than compensated
for by her delightful and affectionate personality.
March 21, 2007
When I came home from work
on the evening of the 21st, it was apparent that Willow had suffered a
stroke sometime during the afternoon. She had been perfectly fine
when I left for work that day, running in her wheel after her morning greeting.
But she was now having difficulty with her balance. I picked her
up and held her close for a few minutes while I removed the top of her
cage to expose the floor. Leaving the lid off, I placed Willow back
upon the fresh aspen, loosely covering her with a towel to keep her warm
and feeling secure. It was readily apparent that she would not last
much longer and I did not want her final moments on earth to be traumatized
by a trip to the vet. For the next 45 minutes, I talked to the little
animal, comforting her with gentle touches and soft words. Quietly,
she slipped away and my beautiful little brown girl left this world. It
seemed as if Willow had willed herself to wait for my return to say her
last good-bye. |
