Hamster Series 1/2: Big Mamma Love for a Little Fur Ball Hamster Series 2/2: Welcome to the World’s Toughest Hamster
Two days later, in the early morning.
Barbara (shuffling in the kitchen with a long face): Mom, Batgirl is shaking again.
She hugs my robed-self tightly from the side. I wrap my arms around her.
Me: People also get like this, at the end, too. It’s just that we give them medicine.
Barbara: It’s not fair.
Me (crying): I’m sorry. It’s gonna hurt for a while. Then you will, slowly, feel better.
We pull up the blanket that we put over Batgirl’s cage to keep her warm. Stacey inspects, eyes shining.
I see a little ball of black fur wobbling back and forth in the cage. Again, stumbling drunk.
Me (to Barbara): You are a great hamster mom, sweetheart.
Stacey: And…Mom would like to tell you a story about Batgirl.
Barbara’s eyes dry. She looks back and forth, quizzically.
One year prior, summertime
It was the beginning of a Daddy weekend. Stacey and I got pajamas on like it’s a contest to see who can get them on the earliest, fluffed our pillows, and turned on our white Christmas lights around the bed. Relaxation-time. Ahhh.
Me: I’m gonna get a glass of Pinot. You want anything?
Stacey’s face falls like we have chores to do.
Stacey: Shit! We promised to get Batgirl out.
The next 20 minutes, in her rat-sized ball, Batgirl slams into doors, plants, our bed, etc. Stacey and I decompress; Batgirl gets exercise. Win-Win.
Stacey (suddenly): Did you hear that?
Me: Um, no?
Stacey: Exactly.
We look at each other, leap to the base of our bed, and look down. There’s Batgirl’s ball, open, empty.
Us (shouting): Ooooooh, SHIT!
Me: I’ll get cheese.
I grab some sharp cheddar and rush back. Stacey is flat on her stomach with her phone flashlight shining under the dresser. There is a clear path through the dust..leading to a shaking hamster. She slooooowly reaches, scoops up the dusty furball, and puts her back home.
Me (exhaling): Um, how about we never speak of this to Barbara?
Stacey: Great idea.
Barbara laughs, hugs us both, and heads to bed.
The next morning
Sipping coffee, I hear Barbara’s door open.
Stacey and I squeeze each other’s hand for reassurance. Barbara slides into view, Kramer-style.
Barbara: MOM! STACEY! You’ll never believe what happened!
My eyes widen. What could she be happy about? Maybe she found a lost art project in the back of her closet again. OMG, maybe Batgirl burnt down and is now a baby hamster.
Barbara: Batgirl is not shaking. AND she ate all of her food.
Stacey (one eyebrow lifted): Really?
We put a couple of drops of yogurt on the side of a spoon next to Batgirl’s hamster house. Immediately, we see the tip of a pink nose emerging. Then whiskers, then a head with bright eyes. Batgirl struts out of her home, throws a paw on the spoon like it ain’t no thang, and takes the world’s tiniest licks.
Stacey: Batgirl has a new name today. Lazarus.
Me: Wow. Batgirl is strong with the force.
Stacey: I think she is strong with Barbara’s love.
Barbara (Jumping up and down cheerleader-style): YEA!!!
One week later
Batgirl’s cage is back on the kitchen counter, covered in her blankie. Barbara is at her dad’s house for the weekend; she already said goodbye in private.
Batgirl is not moving. She is nestled in her tiny home in her cage. Her arched back, revealing labored, heavy breathing. With signs of a third stroke in as many weeks.
A painted black iPhone box lays atop her cage, with turquoise Jackson-Pollock style dots. It looks like a universe. I open it up and see a hand-made purple velvet pillow and blanket.
And…eleven days later
Batgirl is still not moving. BUT, she is eating. Chicken. Yogurt. Cauliflower. Blackberries. Strawberries. Peanut Butter. Eggs. She throws out all food she deems as “not delicious enough.” And she dragged her snack wheel to the doorway of her home.
Stacey: She really is Lazarus.
POEM: Loving-Kindness Meditation
Dear Batgirl,
May you be happy.
May you be safe.
May you be healthy.
May you be at peace.
The SoulJourner Question
For most of my life, I’ve been a human-doing. Constantly making sure all the balls stay in the air. At work. At home. Go. go. go. Never doing for me. However, these past few years, I’ve realized something: When I decide to take the same gentle, tender care with myself, I become stronger. Resilient. I deem myself A. Worthwhile. Human. And I can weather longer, harder storms, and be grateful for what they teach.
Prompt: How can you treat yourself as a gentle soul and life, as if you were the sweetest little hamster? What do you have to let go of to embrace that we are all equal beings AND fill your cup first? What can you do today to acknowledge you are A. Worthwhile. Human?
How about another series about animals? An italian greyhound, perhaps? Try these! Elvis Series 1/3: 10 Things I hate about her dog , Elvis Series 2/3: The Fire Swamps, Elvis Series 3/3: The end of the Dog-inning
