Spinning Wheels

Nothing woke me up that balmy Saturday morning. No barking dog annoyed me out of my slumber. No thunder and lightning shocked me awake. Only silence greeted me when I opened my eyes in the darkness. Outside my bedroom window a streetlamp shone through a slit in the curtains creating shadows of the furniture, a dog crate, and a hamster cage.

At 5 am, I was wide awake and not even remotely sleepy. I had been out the night before and didn’t get home until well after midnight. Sleeping in on weekends was something I looked forward to indulging in, so I was a little put out at this sudden insomnia.

“You’ll want to keep the cage clean, or it will start to smell.” Advice from my landlady came to mind. It was just my luck that she saw me carrying a hamster into my apartment that day when I passed her on the way to my place. She was always pruning the Ficus hedges along the walk and starting up conversations with the tenants. She meant well and most of the time no one minded.

Cleaning a hamster cage at 5:00 am seemed like a better idea than staring at the ceiling. I threw a hoodie over my pjs and slid into my slippers. “Come on Buddy, it’s time to clean your cage,” I said carrying him outside so no hamster cage odors could waft through the rental.

Why does a thirty-five-year-old single woman decide to get a hamster? I guess you could call it makeup pets. As a child I begged my parents for a pet. They were adamantly against it, believing that after the newness wore off, they would be saddled with the responsibility of feeding and walking a dog not to mention paying the vet bills. I adopted a dog two years ago when I suddenly realized I didn’t need permission to have one. Val came from the Pound. I could not leave the shelter without naming her. None of the names I had imagined during my childhood came to mind. While I tried to come up with a cool dog name, "Valerie" by Amy Winehouse piped through the shelter’s sound system. I blurted out “Valerie. Val for short,” and the shelter employee rolled her eyes as she rang up the $65 adoption fee. Perhaps getting a hamster was a bit of overkill. I rationalized that Val needed company while I was at work all day. Buddy, named for a more utilitarian purpose, was to provide companionship to Val while I was away. He cost $40 and that included his cage.

I strolled along the walkway toward the back dock of this waterfront apartment building. Small boats rocked in the water and palm trees rustled in the breeze. I placed Buddy on a railing where I was sure he wouldn’t jump to the ground and run away. I noticed he seemed a little fatter than I remembered and wondered if I was feeding him too much food. Buddy and Val were the closest to having kids that I wanted to get back then. I hadn’t really caught the marriage and family train like my sisters had, but I enjoyed taking care of their kids and I enjoyed having pets. My sisters and girlfriends were all past the diaper changing and potty-training phase. They were a little annoyed with me when I chose to retire from babysitting at the ripe old age of 26. Sitting home on Saturday night with other people’s kids wasn’t going to lead me to finding Mr. Right. So here I was, single and childless, cleaning a hamster cage.

After 10 minutes the task was complete. Buddy, who wisely chose to stay on the rail, went back into the cage, and I went back to bed. That second deeply satisfying sleep lasted until just before 9 AM when mom called for our usual Saturday morning chat. I scuffled to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, crunching the phone between my ear and shoulder. On the living room coffee table Buddy slept in his clean cage while I caught up with mom. I stared mindlessly at the cage while listening to the usual mom topics. Sipping and making occasional “uh huh” and “sure” to show I was listening. With a sudden jolt I noticed something was off in Buddy’s cage. “Oh my God!” I said loudly. My mom abruptly broke off and asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Mom!” I blurted, “My hamster had babies!” I leaned over the cage to get a closer look and counted eleven hairless babies squirming around my inaccurately named hamster. No wonder he, I mean she, looked fatter to me this morning. She was about to give birth to multiples. “You have a hamster?” my mom asked, sounding a little condescending. I could feel her rolling her eyes. She had had a similar reaction when I told her I had adopted Val, but later bonded with the dog and ran out to the pet store to buy a crate and a bunch of dog toys. “Yes, I bought one a couple days ago. I named him Buddy because I thought he was a boy. I guess Buddy is a girl and she’s been a little busy.” My mom had no advice to offer me and was unusually silent. I got off the phone and I sat there staring at these naked and unashamed baby rodents.

This was not what I pictured happening. I thought it would live for a year or two and then cross the rainbow bridge. One hamster was all I had planned for. Twelve hamsters conjured up images of me as a single spinster with an apartment full of Habitrails, all connected by plastic tubes stretching around the living room floor. Little hamster wheels spinning incessantly, and the smell of rodent urine repelling all eligible bachelors from entering my nest. This situation needed to be handled. And fast.

I took a shower and got dressed. Buddy, that little floozy, was going back to the pet store. When I got there, a mother and her teenage daughter were standing in line at the register. They turned to look at me and my cage. I felt compelled to tell them what happened. The mom looked at me very sweetly and said, “Honey, you just need to take care of the mother. She’ll do all the work.” In all earnestness, I held the cage out to her and said, “Do you want them?” A quick “no” was her response as both she and her daughter turned back to face the register. The pet store clerk frowned at me as he took the cage, and I walked away saying over my shoulder. “No refund needed,” I fled the pet store and escaped my brush with vicarious motherhood. Judgmental eyes bore into my back like laser beams.

I was a thirty something single woman enjoying my freedom. My clock was not ticking one bit. I had a lot more fun to experience in life before I settled down to child rearing. Besides, I had probably changed over 100 diapers already in my lifetime.

Val greeted me as I walked in the front door, tail wagging and tongue dangling. I crouched down to scratch her ears and give her a hug. “It’s you and me from here on out, girl.” It was time to wake up to the reality of nature and being a responsible adult. No more trying to make up for lost opportunities in childhood. “Why did I wake up in time to clean the cage before Buddy gave birth?” I asked Val. What made me do it, I wondered? Especially if keeping the babies was not an option. I hope they went to good homes, I thought. And then my cell phone rang with a call from my neighbor next door. "Boat ride?" "Yes please!"