My Way
This story doesn't end well. Like the thing I associate most with it. Different Strokes.
It didn't end well either.
Figuratively. Or literally. Fucking goofy ass Sam played by Danny Cooksey.
I digress.
Back to the story which begins with me setting up the cage that would house my first, and as it turns out only, pet hamsters. Toby and Tim. It was while setting up their cage that Different Strokes came on the TV and that catchy opening theme song fused itself to this memory.
Toby and Tim's cage was awesome. It was one of those wicked cool, the future is now 1970's era hamster cages made out of clear and yellow plastic. And had those little tubes that connect the various compartments. The best part though, was this one tube that came off the main living area, wrapped itself around the cage and shot up into the air until it ended in this little clear box compartment that towered over the cage.
I dubbed it the penthouse. And it was the shit.
Life was good. For awhile. Then the wheels came off when Toby started acting weird. Sleeping all day and then hoarding those sweet smelling wood chips at night. Tim must have noticed something was off too, because he started avoiding Toby. He quit sleeping with him. Going up to the penthouse with him. Eventually he built his own nest in a secondary compartment as far from Toby as he could get. Not that it mattered. Each night Toby would raid Tim's nest for the sweet smelling wood chips and then carry them up to the penthouse. Which became his penthouse.
It got so bad that I started having to extract Toby from the penthouse each morning and redistribute the wood chips in the cage. Not that it mattered. Because that very night Toby would repeat his nocturnal raid and nest building in the penthouse.
Eventually. Toby won. I was only eight, and well, the little rat outlasted me. And I gave up, repeatedly cleaning up after the little bastard.
Which was a mistake.
Since Toby no longer needed to work on the wood chips he started raiding their food supply. Carrying piece after piece up to his penthouse.
I didn't know at first. I couldn't see into the penthouse, with all the wood chips crammed into it. It was like a Toby cocoon of sweet smelling wood chips, with that fat little rat bastard encased in the middle, with a stockpile of food.
Toby was crazy.
Which is what I realized when I pulled him out of the penthouse one day and found the cache of food, shit, and God knows what else.
Not wanting to leave, Toby even went so far to bite me.
Fucker.
So I crammed him into the main compartment of the cage and went off and did whatever that eight year old version of aboynamestu did.
That night, Toby went on the move again, trying to return to his penthouse.
Only by now, he was so fat, he couldn't fit thru the tube that led to it, and ended up stuck. In the middle. Which is where I found him the next morning.
After I extracted Toby, he spent the next week or so, languishing in the main compartment near the tube that led to the penthouse. Or so I thought.
It turns out he was waiting. Biding his time while he lost weight, planning his revenge.
Which happened a week later.
I awoke that morning to find all the wood chips back in the penthouse. I could only assume Toby was encased in them again. But I didn't look. Because in the secondary compartment was Tim. Near death. With huge chunks of fur missing.
Toby went bamboo the night before and tried to eat Tim.
Or maybe they got in a fight over wood chips. Or food.
Who knows what a hamster thinks.
Hamsters are basically rats with better PR. And Toby was crazy. If a hamster can be crazy. I'm not sure. Maybe I should ask a Vet.
Tim died. Soon after I found him. And Toby. That's where the memory fades to black. I don't remember what happened to Toby. When I think about it, I only hear the theme song to Different Strokes. I'm thinking we put him down for the most heinous of hamster crimes, trying to eat his cage mate. And then using his fur as a the lining of his wood shavings cocoon.
Toby and Tim became my cautionary tale of why people shouldn't have hamsters for pets.
And my portal to: The world don't beat to the drum of just one drum. What might be right for you. Might not be right for some...
Until I BLOG again...I ate it and spit it out.
It didn't end well either.
Figuratively. Or literally. Fucking goofy ass Sam played by Danny Cooksey.
I digress.
Back to the story which begins with me setting up the cage that would house my first, and as it turns out only, pet hamsters. Toby and Tim. It was while setting up their cage that Different Strokes came on the TV and that catchy opening theme song fused itself to this memory.
Toby and Tim's cage was awesome. It was one of those wicked cool, the future is now 1970's era hamster cages made out of clear and yellow plastic. And had those little tubes that connect the various compartments. The best part though, was this one tube that came off the main living area, wrapped itself around the cage and shot up into the air until it ended in this little clear box compartment that towered over the cage.
I dubbed it the penthouse. And it was the shit.
Life was good. For awhile. Then the wheels came off when Toby started acting weird. Sleeping all day and then hoarding those sweet smelling wood chips at night. Tim must have noticed something was off too, because he started avoiding Toby. He quit sleeping with him. Going up to the penthouse with him. Eventually he built his own nest in a secondary compartment as far from Toby as he could get. Not that it mattered. Each night Toby would raid Tim's nest for the sweet smelling wood chips and then carry them up to the penthouse. Which became his penthouse.
It got so bad that I started having to extract Toby from the penthouse each morning and redistribute the wood chips in the cage. Not that it mattered. Because that very night Toby would repeat his nocturnal raid and nest building in the penthouse.
Eventually. Toby won. I was only eight, and well, the little rat outlasted me. And I gave up, repeatedly cleaning up after the little bastard.
Which was a mistake.
Since Toby no longer needed to work on the wood chips he started raiding their food supply. Carrying piece after piece up to his penthouse.
I didn't know at first. I couldn't see into the penthouse, with all the wood chips crammed into it. It was like a Toby cocoon of sweet smelling wood chips, with that fat little rat bastard encased in the middle, with a stockpile of food.
Toby was crazy.
Which is what I realized when I pulled him out of the penthouse one day and found the cache of food, shit, and God knows what else.
Not wanting to leave, Toby even went so far to bite me.
Fucker.
So I crammed him into the main compartment of the cage and went off and did whatever that eight year old version of aboynamestu did.
That night, Toby went on the move again, trying to return to his penthouse.
Only by now, he was so fat, he couldn't fit thru the tube that led to it, and ended up stuck. In the middle. Which is where I found him the next morning.
After I extracted Toby, he spent the next week or so, languishing in the main compartment near the tube that led to the penthouse. Or so I thought.
It turns out he was waiting. Biding his time while he lost weight, planning his revenge.
Which happened a week later.
I awoke that morning to find all the wood chips back in the penthouse. I could only assume Toby was encased in them again. But I didn't look. Because in the secondary compartment was Tim. Near death. With huge chunks of fur missing.
Toby went bamboo the night before and tried to eat Tim.
Or maybe they got in a fight over wood chips. Or food.
Who knows what a hamster thinks.
Hamsters are basically rats with better PR. And Toby was crazy. If a hamster can be crazy. I'm not sure. Maybe I should ask a Vet.
Tim died. Soon after I found him. And Toby. That's where the memory fades to black. I don't remember what happened to Toby. When I think about it, I only hear the theme song to Different Strokes. I'm thinking we put him down for the most heinous of hamster crimes, trying to eat his cage mate. And then using his fur as a the lining of his wood shavings cocoon.
Toby and Tim became my cautionary tale of why people shouldn't have hamsters for pets.
And my portal to: The world don't beat to the drum of just one drum. What might be right for you. Might not be right for some...
Until I BLOG again...I ate it and spit it out.
Comments
Post a Comment