This page is dedicated to my wonderful hamster, Hami

Born: October 2000

Died: January 2003

Hami was my cute and cuddly long-haired syrian hamster. He was my very first hamster. I remember the day we got him, too:

It was October 2000, and I was begging my mom for a hamster. She finally caved in after I said I'd take care of him, and asked every five seconds, twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week. We went to our local pet store, and walked to the hamster section. We asked one of the workers if we could take a look at them. She picked up a little toy shoe, and dumped it out. Out came about twelve hamsters! I immediately saw the one I wanted--a brown fuzzy hamster. He stuck out like a sore thumb. All of the other hamsters were light colors, but there's Hami--dark.

I named him Chocolate, because my cousin's hamster's name was Vanilla. However, eventually he developed the name Hami. Nobody knows why, either. I played with him all the time, but I was a little disapointed because I couldn't take him out too often. This was because we didn't have an exercise ball.

Now, I was a little...hmm...not smart? I was playing with Hami in the dark (yes, in the dark). When I got up and flicked on a light, he was gone! I freaked out! I was looking around frantically, when here comes Hami--trotting out from behind our big-screen t.v. He had a huge dustball on his face. I laughed so hard. I ran over and picked him up and decided that I'd never play with him in the dark again.

A few months later when I came home from school, my parents had a surprise for me--a yellow exercise ball! I ran over to Hami's cage, took him out, and put him in it. He loved it!

Of course, there comes a time in every hamster's life where you make your first escape. His first escape was when he was about a year old. I was getting ready for bed, when my dad called up the stairs to my mom "Chris! Look what I found!" I didn't pay attention to it, until I heard my mom say "Hami! Where were you, little guy?" I jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. I had no idea that he was missing--yes, that's right...my parents didn't tell me. I started crying.

Hami had been found by the toilet in our downstairs bathroom. The next day my mom went in to change the garbage bag, and when she moved the garbage bin, there was the nest Hami had made--a wad of toilet paper, a dried up french fry, and a stale piece of popcorn. It was so funny!

Then about three months later was his second escape--which I knew about. I was devastated, and told my whole family to watch their feet while they were walking, so that he didn't get stepped on. Then my dad had an idea--he knew where Hami was.

My dad walked downstairs into our basement, moved a piece of wood, and there was Hami in a corner--curled up in a ball, sleeping. From then on we kept a twistie tie on the latch of Hami's cage, so that he couldn't escape again.

I'm still amazed that Hami didn't kill himself during these escapes. For one thing, his cage was on top of our three-foot-high bird cage...he could have easily broken his neck during the fall. Unless he climbed down the cage...but then his foot could have been bitten off by our bird. Also, our steps leading down to the basement aren't complete stairs. They're those ones that are just pieces of wood, and have the big empty holes between each step. He could have easily fallen through, and landed on the hard cement floor.

Hami also loved to sleep. There was a little blue house in his cage that he'd sleep in almost all the time. It was always difficult to get him out. Another funny thing was that he never used his exercise wheel--not once! I'm not sure he knew how to use it!

Hami lived a long life. A little over three years. Eventually, his hair began to fall out, and he started moving very slow. The last weekend before his death, my mom woke me up. She was holding Hami who looked absolutely miserable. He had big patches of fur gone, and his eyes were half way closed. My mom said the words I had been dreading since the day we got him--"Cate, I think Hami is reaching the end of the line." I started crying, and I pat his back. I remember my mom asking me if I wanted to hold him. I'm still kicking myself for saying it, but I said no.

The next day was a Monday, and I left for school. I don't know how I did, but I had forgotten about Hami's condition. When my mom got home from work, she opened Hami's cage, and took him out. She said he was dead. I cried a lot. Later that night, we buried him in our back yard, in his little blue house--his most favorite thing. I kept saying "I hope he wasn't just sleeping, and we thought he was dead!" My dad said no. He said that he and my mom checked on Hami that morning, and he wasn't breathing.

I was angry that they hadn't told me before I left. My mom pointed out that I would have been thinking about it all day, and wouldn't have been able to consentrate on my work. This was true, but I still wish I could have spent Hami's last hours with him, instead of him being all by himself...

Now, about a year and two months after his death, I have two other hamsters--Skittles, and Peach. They're both wonderful, but I still miss Hami...