I'm reading Dracula. It's long. Longer than I ever imagined it could be. But highly refreshing. I want to hug the Count every time he doesn't show up in a mirror or is chased away by garlic or turns into a bat. Bring back the real vampires!
It might be a bit before I write again. Because, well... those who know me know that Huey is a very real hamster. And, sadly, real hamsters are mortal.
My hamster, it appears, is rather more mortal than I wish him to be.
I don't think he's going to make it to tomorrow morning (if he's even alive right now, all I know is he was in very bad shape last night). Judging by how upset I was last night and today, it'll be a while afterward before I'm ready to review anything again. That's also why Dracula's taking so long; I find it very hard to concentrate on anything when I'm feeling like this.
It's NOT an obituary, because until I bury him I refuse to believe he's dead, and I'm not going to check and risk disturbing his sleep until tonight. But... well, he deserves something, even if I'm wrong and he lives another ten years, because he's my hamster and he's been there for me for the past two years, always there, always ready to let me pet him, up until last night. Nothing could really be good enough when compared to that. But I need to try. So:
He's a sweet, wonderful little hamster. I hope that he will die peacefully in his sleep, and that I didn't cause him too much discomfort by checking on him and moving him out of his house. I hope that it's only old age and not something I did wrong in my care of him.
I love you, Hu-bear. I can't imagine not coming into my room and not seeing you there at your water bottle ever again. Not hearing your wheel across the room as I fall asleep. Never again hearing the "skull-cracking" noise of you cracking open sunflower seeds. Not feeling your little feet on my palm, your soft fur against my fingers, your ears going back as they only did when I stroked them. Not whispering "goodnight, Huey" as I climb into bed each night.
I don't want to say goodbye. Already I'm beginning to deny it, to think that he's only sick or that he was just tired. But in my heart, I know it's not true. He's probably two, if not older. He's lived out his natural lifespan.
But somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better about it.
Mommy loves you, sweetheart.
I said it last night, and I hope with all my heart that I'll get to say it again because really you're just not feeling well. But I don't think I will. So...
Goodbye, Hamster Huey.