The incident started out like any other day, Reese off to school and Cam, Evi and I home playing. Camden asked if he could go play with the hamster, and I said yes. He goes upstairs, gets the hamster and starts playing. Two things I want to interject with here. The first is that Camden was always so gentle with the hamster that I never worried when he had it. The second is that I am a naive fool. So a few minutes later Camden starts screaming for me about something being wrong with Mr. Nibbles. I run upstairs and find a hamster that has been beaten to death by a plastic shark. I totally panic, contemplate sending Camden to future serial killer rehab, and then do what any good mom would do and lie and say that the hamster is just taking a nap. And then I replace the dead hamster with a live one. And that is how the first Mr. Nibbles met his untimely end.
Now, the hamster that we replaced Mr. Nibbles the first wasn't an exact match color wise, so we continue our train of lies and tell Reese that it's 'molting.' The thing about Mr. Nibbles II is that he's a dick, and won't let any of the kids get close to him. I guess that when hamsters molt their personalities also change, but that once the molting process is done, they go back to normal. Our kids are going to be so messed up as adults. The original Mr. Nibbles was such a nice, friendly rodent that we couldn't leave a dick in it's place, so I return him to Petsmart. Have you ever returned a pet to a pet store? They look at you like you're a monster who might be raising a serial killer. Little did they know that only half of that is true. But seriously, you work at a store that mass breeds small rodents for profit, you aren't exactly in the moral high ground on this one. So, after many dirty looks I return Mr. Nibbles II and buy Mr. Nibbles III. Clearly I made the third hamster purchase at a different pet store so that my name didn't go into some database.
Anyways, onto Mr. Nibbles III. He replaced the original Mr. Nibbles perfectly! He was friendly, almost a completely different color, but it's fine, it's just what he molted into, and Reese was none the wiser. She really is so pretty. Have you ever had small children and a hamster? That thing is worth every cent of the $8 you spent on it. It entertains them for hours! That poor hamster was regularly an ice cream man, part of Barbies dream life, a pirate, or any other variation of their imagination. At one point they trained the hamster to go through a maze for a treat. Seriously, get your kids a hamster, you'll never have to make up things for them to do again.
Well, the other night things didn't go so well. I asked Reese to make sure that Mr. Nibbles III had food and water and when she went to pet him she discovered his cold, stiff little body. Actually, first she picked it up, noticed that it was dead and then threw it back into his cage. I think that both of us might be scarred for life after that. She freaks out. That might be an understatement. She spends a solid hour sobbing and chanting "I....want....Mr.....Nibbles..." over, and over, and over again. To distract her we decide to have a funeral.
Hamster funerals are quite interesting. They're basically real funerals for a tiny rodent that you aren't really sad is dead, so you have no idea how to act. Let me just break it down for you. First, you have to pick out a casket. A shoebox will do just fine. But you can't just bury a dead hamster in a shoebox, you have to make sure it'll be comfortable in the afterlife. So you fill it with it's bedding and wrap the dead rodent in a rag that you've been begging your kid to get rid of forever and then you tape the shit out of that box. No need to chance the dogs digging up and ripping into that box. Could you just imagine, Reese coming home from school only to see little bits of hamster fluff all over the backyard? I could never afford the therapy bills.
Then you have to bury the box. Interesting fact, this is significantly easier to do in the movies than in real life. Mark starts to dig and gets like 18" down before he hits straight clay and rock. You can't dig through that shit with a shovel, so that's as deep as that hole gets. You put the taped-to-shit casket in the hole, and then, because you've watched way too much CSI know to sprinkle kitty litter in that hole to absorb the rotting animal smell. At this point both your child and husband will be crying. It's fine though, because the third step of rodent funerals is the eulogy.
This part is very sweet, and touching. Reese had written Mr. Nibbles III a note, which she read out loud (after a motivational speech, given by Mark). Even heartless I got a little bit choked up at this part.
To close the funeral out your crying husband should give the Lord's Prayer while you silently wonder if you should be preparing light appetizers and cocktails for the reception to follow. At that point I remembered that is was almost 9pm, and that showers were to follow this event, not cocktails and usher everyone inside.
And then, the next day your 8 year old daughter and all of her friends have the most morbid playdate ever, and reenact the funeral, complete with sobbing, a moment of silence and fighting.
And that is the story of how there is now a dead body in my backyard. RIP Mr. Nibbles III.
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