With my 25th birthday looming ever closer, for me, the time has come.
I never thought it would happen to me. After all, every time I come within a one-mile radius of a cat, my throat closes up and my eyes swell shut and I basically see the light. I guess I thought that meant I was safe. But what I hadn't considered before now was that there are other creatures in this wide, wide world, and their presence in high numbers could make me every bit as crazy as cats would.
Now, I already had a pair of gerbils. I guess I like the thought that at night, when I lay down and close my eyes and try to think about nothing, I'm not alone. Anyway, I make several trips to Petsmart each month on their behalf, usually for food or bedding (but never both because I never run out of them at the same time, and if I were to buy something I didn't yet need, my hyperactive guilt complex would kick in over spending money I didn't need to, and that's worse than another trip to Petsmart.)
Every time I go, I make a tour of the wildlife. First, the "critters" - any furry, four-legged animal smaller than a cat or dog. The gerbils, then the hamsters, then rats, then guinea pigs, and finally mice. Then gerbils again. Then around the tower of cages to the birds. I like the hoppy birds like finches. I like canaries, too, because they are the most beautiful shade of yellow I've ever seen. Parakeets are ok, but my favorites are the smart birds, the ones that live about as long as I will, and if I were to draw up an Excel spreadsheet of expenses, they'd probably cost as much as I do, too.
Usually I then grab the food or bedding, hit the reptiles for a brief viewing, skip the fish because they're not exciting to me, and head out the door before I acquire any extra creatures.
But this time was different. This time I was greeted by this:
And so on and so forth. It was like watching a video of a wind-up toy on fast forward. Like watching a tennis match play out on a foot-long court. Like watching Jezz Ball on the hardest level. Remember that game? I think that was probably my very first encounter with extreme stress. (And yes, now that I've mentioned it, I have looked it up online and am now playing it.)
But watching that tiny hamster wasn't stressful. It was hilarious. I laughed and I laughed, everyone looked at me funny, I laughed some more, and it was a wonderful time.
Eventually I had to stop watching because I knew that, were I to watch any longer, I would acquire her, the robo dwarf hamster/Tasmanian Devil. I told myself "you do not need another animal, you do not need another animal." I grabbed a bag of gerbil food. I walked back past the pet cages. I tried so hard not to look, but I failed. I watched the hamster some more.
Finally I took the gerbil food to the check-out counter and left. When I got to my car, I stopped. I turned back to the store. I stopped again. I turned back to my car. I got in and I called my mom, hoping she would be my voice of reason. I forgot that my mom loves animals even more than I do.
"If I weren't married or anything, I'd have a bunch of animals," she said. "Are robo dwarf hamsters expensive?"
"No," I said.
"Well, you're an adult and you can do what you want."
By which she meant, "you're an adult and I really want to see this cute little hamster, so you should totally get it."
By this point I had driven out of the Petsmart parking lot. But even before my mom and I had finished our conversation, I had circled back around and pulled back in. I hung up, went inside Petsmart, and acquired another creature.
Her name is Tater Tot, she fits in the palm of my hand, she's faster than the speed of light, she runs around my room in a clear plastic wiffle-sized ball, she cleans her fur and sits on her butt and wiggles her nose and runs so fast on her tiny wheel that she gets flattened against it by the centrifugal force and she goes around and around and around. And she is adorable.
And they all lived happily ever after, right?
Of course not. Well, I mean, yes, we did. We are. We are living happily. But there's definitely more to the story, including a major problem I am now facing. In researching robo dwarf hamsters and learning all there is to know, I got a little curious about what information might be out there about gerbils.
Guys, there is an American Gerbil Society. And they have registered breeders. And gerbil shows. I am so not kidding. Gerbil shows. Like, what is there to judge? It's a gerbil!
Apparently quite a lot. Temperament, physicality, appearance. There are over 20 different gerbil colors, and they've figured out the exact genetic code, and which recessive genes cause which traits, and which combinations of recessive genes cause which combinations of traits layering on top of each other to form ever rarer and never-before-seen colors of gerbil. There is also a debate about whether or not selective breeding is a good thing for gerbils, since a lot of the rare coat colors are accompanied by particularly undesirable temperaments and a general inability to be a good mother to baby gerbils. Which evidently are called pups.
Gerbil shows, y'all. Gerbil shows.
In spite of the absolute absurdity of the entire thing, I find myself having to talk myself out of becoming an AGS-registered gerbil breeder. That's right. I am dying to devote my entire bedroom to tanks upon tanks of gerbil pups. I would happily give over every square inch of my space in our house to gerbils. I would spend hours taming each one, and teaching him or her to do tricks and run races and solve mazes and be sweet. And there would be so many baby gerbils, I would die from the overload of adorableness. My roommates would probably be completely freaked out, and they might even move out. Then I'd have to pay all the rent for the house by myself. But that might be ok, because then I would have two extra rooms to turn into gerbil habitats. I would gerbil-proof the house, removing all chewable wires and screwing all tall things like bookcases and desks into the wall. I would fence off the stairs and build a little ramp for them to go up and down. I would turn them loose and they would take over the house.
Ok, maybe I wouldn't go that far. After all, I have Tater Tot to think of now. She probably wouldn't like a house full of gerbils. Anyway, it's settled. I will be 25, and I will be the crazy critter lady.
Note: I drew fewer pictures this time. Please still love me. I just got so intimidated by the fact that I hadn't posted anything in over two months, and I thought if I could ease my way back in, that would be good. I'm scared you won't love me anymore, though.
Another Note: I changed my mind, I don't care what you think. I'm an independent, strong young woman who likes herself and it doesn't matter to me what anybody else thinks.
Another Note: It totally does, though.
A Final Note: I need you to see just how cute a robo dwarf hamster is, because my drawing definitely did not do it justice. Here, look. And scroll all the way down, because the pictures only get cuter.
An Addendum to the Final Note: It's like I just discovered links...
