It has been mentioned in the past that Monkeyhip the Crappity, Fucking Hamster is prone to nighttime wanderings. The little dude pulls himself out of his cage from atop the bookcase and flings himself six feet to the floor, at least four times a week. The cats are no concern; they no longer chase rodents, chickens, or even dust motes. In fact, Monkeyhip got outside once, and our tuxedo cat Hank brought him back in through the cat flap and deposited him in the kitchen. We knew old M. had been outside because his tiny paws were wet and cold, and he had a minute twig stuck to his back. Way to go, Hank!
My very clever and sexy friends always say, “Hey jerk! Why dontcha just get a lid for the cage? Dumbass.” I think the answer lies in my current and ongoing Marital Grudgematch. Mr. Husband, aka Senor Cheapypants, thinks that the lid shouldn’t cost as much as the cage. (They are both ten dollars. Cheap!) Also, a lid requires another trip to SavOnPets or whatever, and who has time for that?
Secretly, I think it’s funny to see him ambling around the house. He disappears for two days, and then, POOF! there he is behind the speaker, with cobwebs stuck to his whiskers. I pull him out and give him a drink of water, and pop him into his cage. He eats and takes a nap, and starts over again. Hell, it’s probably more fun than being tothandled by a crazed three-year-old, or wandering around in his smelly hamster bubble. Sometimes I find him, give him some water and a snack, and set him free again. Our house couldn’t be more squalorous anyhow, and he spends most of his time in the walls.
You may think that rodents are stupid (well, they are, really), but Monkeyhip is perhaps not as dumb as we thought. Last night he got found on purpose. Mr. Husband was sleeping peacefully in bed…when he felt something crawling up his leg.
“I said to myself, that better be fucking Monkeyhip, and not something else,” Mr. Husband said as he told me the story this morning. Mr. Husband turned the light on to the sight of the Hipster sitting on his stomach, staring at Mr. Husband expectantly. Mr. Husband put him back in his cage.
A few hours later, Mr. Hip was at it again, crawling up Mr. Husband’s stomach and demanding readmission to hamster land. I could not stop laughing. POOOOR Mr. Husband. Well, perhaps he is almost ready to make that trip to SavOnPets.
Hooray for me, the heavy, heavy sleeper. I never have to feed noisy cats, put my wayward Boo back into her little bed, or rehouse Monkeyhip. I win!