July 21, 2007
"I sure hope she's pregnant."
An odd thing for George to be saying when he walked into the bedroom at about 1 a.m.
"The hamster--I hope she's pregnant."
"'Cause he's dead. Dead dead dead."
That's how I came to learn that our elderhamster Max, AKA Marshmallow, loving husband to Cupcake and the longest living hamster in show business, had been Promoted to Glory as they are known say in The Salvation Army.
It was bound to happen. He had far surpassed the average hamster lifespan of 2-3 years, survived innumerable stupid hamster tricks and a lengthy marriage to his first wife, Coco, who ate their 13 babies back in 2005 after I mistakenly separated mom from babies. He was also the sweetest hamster we've ever had, and father of all hamsters we've ever had, except for his two wives.
I think of Coco, who died last year on Halloween, and the birth of their first litter of babies, spitting like popcorn from the hamster wheel. I think back on when I tried to figure out what to tell Jenna and opted for the truth.
She heard us talking tonight and already knows about Max. She's glad it's not the cat. A story for another day.
Recently we could tell that Max was aging fast, and that's when George came up with the idea to get him a new mate in Cupcake. We did a trial run with them in the same cage a month ago, but no babies. We put them back together a couple of weeks ago, so we're really hoping for some offspring to remember Max by.
Babies or not, Max you were a gentleman among hamsters. I'll miss you.