THE HAMSTER COMETH
Now that Thanksgiving is over, the mind controllers at the
Ramjac Corporation have flipped the Christmas switches inside the heads of
American consumers. It is no accident that gas prices have miraculously come
down. Our corporate masters want to
ensure we have plenty of fuel to get to the mall.
And what are the Rabbit children getting for Christmas? Well, five-year-old Little Bit has not yet
had her greed chip implanted. I think
they do that at the six-year-old examination.
If I ask her what she might want, she looks mystified. When I looked through a toy catalog with her,
she pointed at things and said “would I like that?” The only strong desire she expresses is the
persistent longing for a baby sister.
Santa won’t be delivering that.
My eight-year-old, on the other hand, knows exactly what she
wants. Tigger demands a pet of her
The cats of the household are not so much pets as
co-owners. The bunny is my pet and only
gets out of his cage after the children have gone to bed. Last year Tigger went through the “can we
PLEEEEEEASE get a dog” phase, but made no headway. After a great deal of thought and research,
she decided she needs a hamster.
The kid’s got it all planned out. She’s going to ask Santa to bring the major
hardware—cage and other necessary equipment.
When the hamster house is set up, she plans to buy the critter, the
food, the bedding, and the toys with saved-up allowance. She has checked out every hamster care book
in the school library and read them cover to cover. She has dragged me to the pet store to price
hamster chow and exercise wheels.
How could Santa refuse in the face of such
determination? I’m sure Tigger will find
a hamster cage on Christmas morning.
Now I need to figure out how I can get the kids to refer to
this annual acquisition extravaganza as Solstice or Yule or A.A.E. rather than
Christmas. We are not actually
celebrating the birthday of Christ. Then
again, neither is anyone else, historically speaking.
Well, any excuse for a party.
EDIT: Note to self: Do not, under
any circumstances, attempt to fix a typo in a blog entry via the
ancient browser on the old iMac. After falling head first into
HTML hell, I finally deleted the whole entry and repasted it from the
original Word file. My apologies to anyone who inadvertantly saw
the mess before I cleaned it up.