What a night. I was prompted awake four times by the guilt of having accidentally deprived the mother hamster, who we thought was the father hamster, of her newborn babies for 12 hours yesterday until I "figured it out." Is it too late? Hard to tell. She's back on the makeshift nest today. This morning she was on the other side of the cage, as far away as she could get. I saw one little baby she'd taken out of the nest when I went downstairs at 7:00. I wanted to give him back to her--"Lookie, he's alive!" But I left them alone. When I went down at 10:00, he was nowhere to be found. I hope he's under her.
I'm off to get some formula for her. I read it helps the milk supply. I think hers may have dried up during the twelve hours she spent apart from the babies. I reached in to give her a scratch while she was eating. She rolled over asking me to rub her belly. She never does that. She's the mean one I thought was a He.
Now, about the "Royal Wedding..."
The sound of Dianna rolling over in her grave.
Listen, I'm all for going on with life after the death of a loved one. HOWEVER, this skank-ass-bad-teeth-man-hands-rediculous-hat-wearing homewrecker and her cowardly oedipus-complexed-immature-lying-mama's-boy-king-wannabe husband are responsible for inflicting some realy nasty trauma on young Dianna. Maybe more than that. So forgive me for not sending a card.