I did it once, and I think I got away with it. But only just.
On the weekend I needed to get my girl’s bike fixed. So I decided to take it along to a local chap, who runs this bicycle rental business from a back entrance to the Riverside Hotel, just down the road from where I live. It’s a journey I’ve made many times as the local betting centre is round the corner.
On Sunday I decided I would take my hamsters along for the ride. I wanted the company, and I reckoned they could do with experiencing a bit of life as it exists outside the comfortable confines of their cage.
My decision regarding which pair to take (we have four pairs currently) was not entirely arbitrary. One couple (as I like to think of them - they’re very loving) have just had babies, and they shouldn’t travel at so young an age. Of the three remaining couples, one is rather old and frail, and I felt the long (in relative terms) journey might be a bit too much for them now. So, it was a toos-up between Scar and Jordan, and Mouthy Mouth-Leaper and Ickings-Ick.
Now, I’ve got to confess at this point that I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for Ickings as she had seven consecutive litters (‘consecutive’ because hamsters sometimes take a break, but she just kept gestating, regular as clockwork, producing offspring every three weeks or so for six months). And Mouthy’s exploits have of course been chronicled elsewhere on this board. He even had a a song written in his honour by doper Doctor Jackson.
Now, you might think I’m being a bit hard on old Jordan, who only managed one brood before calling it a day - some of you might even call me callous or chauvinistic - but there you have it. Those of you who own many pets will understand that, like it or not, one does develop favourites.
So I took Mouthy and Ickings. Now, some of you have probably run ahead of me and think that what happened when we got in the car was that Leaper jumped out of the window. Well, no, but probably only because it’s hot here now and we had the air-con on. I put them on the floor, and as I left the car park I noticed them scampering around really enjoying themselves. They were sniffing away at this and that, and they seemed especially to enjoy the soft carpet under their paws. Different from the newspaper they were used to.
I got to the bike rental place without incident in about five minutes and they were able to fix it quickly. I got back in the car and had gone about 50 yards when I realised that I hadn’t been aware of the hamsters for quite a while. Then, horror of horrors, I realised that I’d left the door open while they did the repair so that I could have a bit of a sit down and enjoy the open air while reading the newspaper that I’d just bought from the nearby 7-Eleven. Could they have escaped? I decided to get home and check the car thoroughly. Maybe they had just found a nice hole to disappear into, or perhaps they had burrowed under the carpet?
Well, imagine my panic when I couldn’t find them. I rushed back to the cycle place and checked all the nearby bushes and the storm drains. I asked the cycle people if they had seen any hamsters scurrying around, but they appeared bemused and weren’t much help. So I went back home feeling pretty disconsolate. Could a pair of domesticated Dwarf Campbell Russians survive in Sha Tin Wai? What would they eat? Did they have the necessary survival skills?
At this point my daughter came to me aid. “Put some food down for them in the car and see if it goes.” So I did, and it did! On the third day after that fateful trip, I was driving home from work when I felt this scrabbling on my trouser leg. It was Mouthy. I reached down and picked him up, and he seemed none the worse for wear.
But days went by and still no sign of Ickings. Was it possible that this most caring and prolific of mothers was dying a slow death by starvation wedged somewhere between the drive shaft and the handbrake cable? The thought appalled me.
Five days and seven hours after her ordeal began, I felt that familiar scrabbling - this time against the suede of my Hush Puppies. I reached down again and was promptly bitten. She was alive! Not wanting to lose her again I cradled her in my left hand, using just my right to steer my Toyota Echo. No one needed to tell me how extreme her hunger was. The scars on my palm will testify to that till the day I die.
But I had my hamsters back, and I had learned my lesson. “Daddy, you won’t ever do that again, will you?” said my 9 year-old when she judged it to be the right time later that evening when I had calmed down a bit. “No”, I replied, suitably chastened. “Promise?” she added. “Promise”, I whispered back.