My wife’s classroom hamster, Jack Frost, died last night.
We were keeping him over the summer, as we had over the spring break. He was a cute little fella, and we had taken to calling him Bright Eyes.
But he was three, which is old for a hamster, and had been acting sluggish the past few weeks.
We had taken him upstairs to our bedroom last night, thinking it might be his last night. We didn’t want our 8 YO going downstairs in the morning and being the first to find him.
The boy figured it out, though. Sad. We’re going to have a little ceremony this evening. Perhaps it’s best for the child to first experience death this way, than with a close family member. Still, it’s sad.
Sorry to hear about the expiration of the critter. I have some extra white pet rats if you are interested…
Free. Please take one or two…
Well, the hamster wasn’t technically ours. It was the classroom hamster, and I don’t know exactly what’s going to be done about replacing him, if they’re even going to.
But since it happened in our home, we sorta feel responsible.
I’m going to relate a painful childhood experience here, so don’t laugh.
When I was in kindergarten I got to take the class hamster home for the weekend. Each week some kid did, if he or she was the “best behaved” or something. My Dad was most emphatically not thrilled.
Wouldn’t you know the little bugger would up and die on my watch? I was devastated.
My long-suffering Dad had to drive from pet store to pet store to find an adult hamster that looked exactly like the dead critter.
My parents formulated a new House Rule on the spot. “If it’s breathing, you can’t bring it home from school.”
