[Hamster Tales Part 6]

Previously in Hamster Tales: After my little hamster princesses get past the shock of moving into a new home, they fight each other. Then they make up. Then they poop in the food dish and eat in the wheel. Then they go to sleep in the messy basement instead of in the pretty $22 house.

Day 6
Monday, 31 December 2007

It seems like my loopy girls have decided to fall out with each other again. Or, rather, Picnic has decided to fall out with Pixie. The tyrant girl has staked claim on the castle and kicks up a stink whenever Pixie comes to visit.

Pixie is so terrified of Picnic that she has no choice but to live all alone in the big new cage. She doesn’t look at all happy even though she actually got a better deal (her cage is three times the size of Picnic’s castle).

Yesterday, I had shredded a piece of tissue paper into each cage for the girls to make nests.

Today, when I check in on them, I notice that Pixie’s cage has no more tissue. Picnic’s castle, on the other hand, is bursting with tissue.

It’s nice to know that Picnic is enjoying the tissue and keeping herself busy playing FedEx with it.

I wonder if Pixie approves of it.

Pixie keeps wanting to go into the castle but she’s hesitant. Sometimes, she stops at the mouth of the tunnel, just short of stepping into the castle, then she’d get cold feet and scoot back to her cage.

Sometimes, she bravely ventures in and tiptoes around until Picnic discovers her and chases her back to the big cage.

Poor Pixie. I don’t know if I should just separate them and disable the tunnel access altogether.

Maybe I’ll wait and see if this continues.

Because Pixie’s tissue shreddings have all ended up in Picnic’s castle, I gave her some more. Two pieces this time.

Later in the night, I check on them again.

What’s this?

I see Picnic boldy tromping into Pixie’s cage.

Pixie freezes on the wheel.

She tries not to look at Picnic. She looks left and right. You can almost see her little mind furiously working out a solution to all of life’s problems.

Picnic sniffs around curiously, makes burrows in the wood shavings and then emerges where the new pile of shredded tissue has been placed.

Oooh, tissue.

Picnic starts stuffing tissue into her mouth.

Exactly how much tissue could a hamster want? She stuffs and stuffs and stuffs for all she’s worth.

When most of the tissue has gone into her mouth, I put my hand down. That is, I lower my hand into the cage, not doing anything else, just putting my hand there.

Picnic rolls her eyes at the intrusion, stops stuffing, and struts back to the castle. If you ask a doctor whether ativan is addictive, then also ask how he defines addiction: addictive only medication for which “you have to constantly increase the dose” to achieve the same effect. For this reason, SSRIs are not addictive, but after weaning, you still have a lot of fun with the withdrawal symptoms.

Pixie darts into her $22 house and hides behind the remaining tissue.

I sigh.

I seal off the tunnel access and give Pixie more tissue.

They’re both on their own now. My heart aches a little for them.

Next Up: Absence Makes the Heart Grow… What?