Great Hamsters I Have Known

Today, a great hamster was laid to rest. His name was Boris. 

We must not be sad, and instead celebrate the all-too-brief life of a beloved creature. Boris was curious, friendly, and adored by all who knew him; even the folks who disliked his kind. By some cosmic coincidence, the grey-and-white patches on his back formed a big “B”.

Boris escaped his habitat only once, after a section popped off one night, and when I called his name in the morning, he appeared. No hunting or worrying was required. As I gratefully returned him to his home, his expression said “I think I bit off more than I could chew. No sir; I didn’t like it.”

That was Boris. A critter and a gentleman. A loyal companion, and an eager mascot. An eater of Vanilla Cupcake Goldfish and Brussels sprouts. He proudly carried the Podhamster torch, a tradition established in the Before Times of the 1990s.

One of the very first in the dynasty was Peanut, who stayed with me after my divorce, in 1995. (Unfortunately I don’t have photographic records until after 2000.) Peanut was a champion of the Rolly Ball, happily bonking it into walls and fridges. He lived a long, full life, until one night I came home from work, and found him just about gone. As I held him, he mustered up his last ounce of strength to lift his head and look me directly in the eyes, before he slipped away.

The first officially recognized Podhamster was Henry, more popularly known as Buddy (1997-1999). His exit was memorialized in the back page of The Last Laugh. A recording of Buddy loudly drinking from his water bottle made it into Tailothepup’s Misery. The hamster smoking a bong on those old “Hempster” shirts was based on Buddy (by me, obviously).

You see, Buddy loved weed. He never got close enough to eat any, but he clearly appreciated having hits exhaled in his tiny, whiskered face. He would pop out of whatever hut or nest he’d been slumbering in at the sound of a baggie unfurling, or a lighter flicking. Once, my friend was cleaning his weed at the foot of my bed, and I set Buddy down near the pillow. Buddy closed the gap at such speed that my friend instinctively grabbed everything with both arms. Both of us were dumbstruck; it was like the Jedi super-speed move in the beginning of The Phantom Menace.

Buddy also loved girls, and would appear and make a noisy fuss at the first sound of a female voice. This worked every time, for his human keeper as well, much like Colt 45.

Buddy was the first hamster I ever had cremated, so that I wouldn’t have to bury him someplace. If you cackle at the expense of this procedure for such a tiny organism, allow me to lay a very sobering thought upon you.

If it hasn’t already happened, there will be a time in your life where you lose someone that you knew for less than three years, and it will hurt as much as losing someone you’ve known your entire life. When you bond with an animal, you accept the terms of that animal’s existence on this earth. You enjoy the window of your own existence that was made brighter by the animal.

That’s why I’ve never seen hamsters as “disposable animals”. They are tiny soul engines. They have personalities and habits all their own, just as dogs, cats and birds do. Unless you would like to grow up too quickly, don’t breed them, or keep more than one. That’s where all the horror stories I don’t want to hear come from; hamster ownership without proper knowledge and environment. I know. I have bad childhood experiences too. Because they are bad, I don’t share them.

Let’s not be sad, and bring the mood back up, with tales of another Great Hamster: Lothar (2006-2009).

Lothar was a feisty adventurer and escape artist who lived at the Pod Studio with myself and my fiancée. As a pup, he actually looked like a chick (baby chicken), due to his golden teddy-bear coloring. He roamed the expansive concrete floor of the studio in the Rolly Ball, a reliable presence during movie production. He made my girlfriend frantic with numerous escapes, until we figured out the root of his wanderlust.

Lothar had spotted a fetching paint roller, virgin and unused, and taken it for a morsel of doe-butt. He went to great lengths to make his way down the stairs and woo it. You see, Lothar was a daredevil of sorts. He proved this by dropping almost fifteen feet from a balcony into a bucket of fake flowers, which broke his fall.

After a panicked morning, we found Lothar in the bucket, scratching to get out. There was literally no other way for him to get in there. High above was a kernel of corn, the proof of his descent, waiting in the corner of the balcony for his return. We had to work out what went down in reverse, like Columbo.

Lothar fell prey to his own tricks, however, when he filed down the supports of a wooden chew ball to sharp points, and poked his tiny eye in the dark. Now squinty-eyed, Lothar became less active, and a sickness took him. On the day Lothar passed, two cooing grey doves appeared on the windowsill to usher him on to the next world. He had lived almost four years.

Hugo (2009-2010) lived briefly, but like Olly before him, made an indelible impression on my heart.

Like Buddy, Hugo stayed with me through a painful breakup. He can be seen riding the Rolly Ball in the Day Pekar Died strip. He was my pal during the “Rum & Coke Experiment”, when I drank four rum & Cokes a night for months, and inspired the Drinking With Hamsters feature. I would lie on my back on the carpet, obliterated, and Hugo would sit atop my chest, gazing at me without judgment. I would be angry and frustrated at my situation, and glance over to see Hugo contorted in his unique form of slumber, and gladden.

Sometime late one night Hugo departed for his reward; no fuss, no muss. The very picture of a gentleham.

I took the suddenness of Hugo’s passing as an opportunity to embrace a different breed of hamster; a Winter White dwarf name of Buzz (2010-2011). Imagine a micro-sized outboard motor, covered with soft downy fur. That was Buzz.

Buzz and I had some great times together. Joey Pikkels grew a cucumber in his home garden; Buzz ate it. Buzz knew just how softly to bite the end of a finger, so he could get a little “hang time”. He communicated by softly nipping. He was like a cross between a mouse and a Darda car.

Buzz got sick. Hamsters often do, but Buzz got sick at only around a year old, and his fuzz fell out. The Briarcliff Animal Clinic did their best, but Buzz got a skin infection, and at his tiny size, there was no way to keep him from worrying it. He would cry out in pain, and I would do whatever I could to soothe his hairless body. He was very strong, and fought as long as he could.

When I felt his end was coming, I laid down on my side, cupping Buzz gently in my palm, and spoke to him. He closed his eyes, and began to pantomime running in place. His tiny paws kicked as he “ran”, stretching every so often in a “jump”. He motioned a final, long jump, then lay still.

Philo (2011-2014) may already be familiar to you. He had the good fortune to be my hamster when I was evicted, and we became homeless briefly.

Everyone loved Philo; he’s probably the only hamster to ever visit Atlanta’s El Myr (unintentionally). He had ruby eyes. He enjoyed being handled by humans, and their company. At one point, he got sick, I took him to BAC, and he got better. Because that’s what you do. This is a hamster that would sit on my shoulder while I played Xbox. He kissed me on the tip of the nose once. He really did!

Philo was laid to rest in the Little Five Points soil that so welcomed him. Friends were sad to see him go to the point where I myself felt better, simply for having known him.

The sadness doesn’t matter; these wondrous creatures never knew sadness. I make sure they won’t. Nothing makes my workspace feel complete like a snuffling hamster fussing around in a Habitrail. I admire their self-reliance and independent spirit. I find cleaning up after them to be far preferable to doing so for larger pets. I aspire to their natural athleticism, and their cuddliness. I like to try and pinch their tiny tails.

These are but a few of the great hamsters I have known.