Longtime readers will know that I love dwarf hamsters. I once even ran an information site about them, which just goes to show you that everyone loves something weird and has a secret passion. Mine, as far as you know, is dwarf hamsters. There's weirder stuff to like out there than dwarf hamsters. Trust me.
My favorite dwarf hamster is the Roborovski hamster, and not just because of the name. Roborovskis are the smallest of the hamsters, and they're quite a bit different from their cousins. They live about twice as long, they don't mate as often, and while they are much more active and twitchy, they are also much friendlier than other breeds of hamsters. I've never been bitten by a Roborovski hamster. They're not very cuddly except with each other and don't really like to be handled, but they are otherwise very sociable little guys and I just love 'em.
There is a special mutation that has recently been bred in Roborovskis that results in white-faced hamsters, and when I found one and brought it home with a normal Roborovski mate, I was as happy as I could be. The brown hamster I named Tristan, and the white girl Isolde. I quickly came to call her Izzie.
A few months after she came home with me, I found Izzie one morning, lying on her side in her cage. Her eyes were open and she was alert, but it was clear that something was terribly wrong. She could barely walk and dragged herself on one side. I was heartbroken. Strokes are fairly common in hamsters, and there's not much you can do for them when they strike, except just make them comfortable. I didn't know what else to do for Izzie; I certainly wasn't going to try to put her out of her misery. I mean, how would you do that, anyway? So I watched her sadly, and I waited for the end that seemed sure to come.
Over a year later, I'm still waiting.
This isn't the story of a poor dead hamster; she's still around and still kicking. This is the story of a pretty little thing that suddenly became a twisted, skinny little scrap with bugged eyes and a funny walk. Izzie didn't die, and while she didn't exactly get all better, she did figure out how to walk around fairly quickly, and how to keep herself steady when she drank from the water bottle. Tristan became very protective and nurturing to her, hardly ever leaving her side, and so for the past year or so, I've watched these two hamsters, named after famous but doomed lovers. They've written their own story, however, and so far, it's been a happy one.
Every day, I go to their cage and I find Izzie sleeping, curled up grotesquely like a dead bug, her eyes half open. She looks dead every time, and so I remove the lid to the cage and blow gently on her. I can't help myself. And every time I do, she pops up, rudely awakened, and looks up at me with her bulging eyes as if to say, "Dude. Fucking quit it already." She is unmoved by my concern.
Izzie's not a metaphor for some larger issue, as tempting as it might be to try to turn her into one. She's simply a tough little hamster who refuses to die like she was supposed to, and her fat little mate seems to love her without limits. Every day I watch them, and I wonder about this world in which it is the broken and the seemingly forsaken that fight the hardest, for an existence that the rest of us take for granted. So I don't know. Perhaps she is a pretty good metaphor.
She still hates it when you blow on her, though.
9 comments:
i'm happy that your izzie keeps kicking, even with one leg... i didn't know if you kept the dwarf hamsters anymore because i hadn't seen them in your photo stream.
my guinea pig Gordon had a stroke or scurvy (guinea pigs and humans are the only mammals that require vitamin C in their diet...). we had a similar experience with him that you have with izzie, but it didn't last nearly as long as your girl is lasting.
and i love that you named them tristan and isolde. we just got 2 new guinea pigs. they're girls ... hermia and helena.
"I wonder about this world in which it is the broken and the seemingly forsaken that fight the hardest, for an existence that the rest of us take for granted."
This sums things up so well. It makes me think of my son Marcus and so many of the kids I've worked with over the years.
And I love the last line of your piece: it brought a big smile to my face.
I was thinking the other day about my sister (who had a hemorrhagic stroke, a cranial aneurysm rupture, and several follow-on strokes a little over a decade ago). I remember hoping she'd walk again. But she walks ten years later. Yes, with a cane. But she does things, a lot of things and just keeps fighting. Her husband of over forty years remains at her side, dedicated to his love for what was really a different person in a way. He mentioned that her doctors think she is a miracle. But it's all about the fight, isn't it? Of course, she'd be dead without their initial and continuing interventions. But she might have easily been dead with it. Is that a metaphor for anything? Nah. But this whole life and death thing? You never know.
Lord but I have missed the hamster stories! What was the name of the one you wrote often about in a galaxy far, far away....was it Rocky?
Anyway, so glad you still have them - fight the good fight Izzie!
Freaking-A, Rob, I can read all about Schuyler kicking the monster's ass and such and not cry (much). But I am reduced to tears by Izzy. Maybe b/c she reminds me of my son? I dunno, but I think she's a great metaphor. So quit blowing on her alreadyy, wouldya?
I didn't realize hamsters had such a tough life. Makes me kinda feel sorry for 'em. But not enough to get one as a pet. The cats would object. Or maybe not.
Sounds like she had a stroke or it could be the result of a spider bite. If happens. As long as she's not in pain, you're doing the right thing. (My sister's a vet and she advised us when we went through something similar with a beloved guinea pig.)
You may be interested to know that we once had a pair of Syrian hamsters who lived happily and devotedly together for quite a few years. There were never any babies (unless they ate them when we weren't looking) and when Spronk died of old age, Brenda followed him a day later.
Really lovely post. Bless the beasts and the children indeed.
I've been bitten by hamsters. Twice. It's painful and you bleed waaaay more than you would imagine. So good thing the dwarf hamsters are less likely to bite if you're going to keep blowing in Izzie's face.
Good post - a reminder to keep on keepin' on.
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