(Warning: Gory Story) "The Life and Death of Ginerman and Harry"

Unfortunately, I have far too many pet death stories behind my belt, but the most bizarre of species that I have circulated though is most definitely rodents. I think in total I have had eight rodents, varying from gerbils to rats to hamsters. The two, or should I say five, most horrific and traumatizing deaths amongst my small furry friends was the death of Ginerman and Harry. Ginerman and Harry were dwarf hamsters that my Mom bought for me when I was seven, and I loved them very much, they were the best rodents a little girl could have. Ginerman especially was my favorite because he would crawl up the sleeve of my shirt and his little fingers would tickle me. However, turns out Ginerman was a girl, and soon enough the course of nature took its place and Ginerman had three squirming bald babies. If you have ever seen brand new baby hamsters, they are not the cutest things in the world, they are actually pretty gross. Within a few days however, they had begun to grow new fur and were starting to resemble hamsters. There are certain things that you should know about breeding hamsters, certain things that as a seven-year-old, I did not know. For example, as soon as the babies are born you are supposed to take the father out of the same cage as the babies, why…because he will eat them. Yes, I know, it sounds terrible, and it was. About a week after the babies were born I came upstairs and ran up to the cage where they lived and nearly choked on my own vomit because two of the three babies were spread periodically throughout the entire cage, guts and all, Harry had torn two of his very own babies to death. I screamed and ran out of that room like a little girl. There was a problem though, we didn’t know for sure which parent had done it, both were covered in baby hamster blood and it was indecipherable which had committed the crime. We presumed that it was Harry because the babies need their mother to eat and grow. So, lesson learned we took Harry out of the cage and sentenced him to a cardboard box in another room. Everything seemed to be going well, until once again I came upstairs and, this time less brutally, the last baby was dead. We assume from natural causes because there was no blood, the baby was just laying in the woodchips, stiff as log. Ginerman was on the opposite side of the cage sleeping quietly. Alright, enough is enough. Fine the babies are gone, mission failed. Obviously I wasn’t cut out to be a hamster breeder. I sucked it up and took the last baby out of the cage, preceded to put it in a Tupperware container and stick it in the freezer because I liked science and I thought maybe this baby hamster would prove some great scientific revolution later. So, back to where I started, I put Harry back in the cage with Ginerman and told them not to have any more babies. Ah, you’ve learned something, it never ends. The next day, the very next day, I went upstairs to check on my corrupt little hamsters and sure enough another death. Ginerman had taken it upon herself to avenge her babies and had eaten the brains out of her mate, Harry. This was enough for any little girl to go crazy, but I suppose I was not like most little girls, and so once again I cleaned Ginerman’s cage and left her to reflect on what she had done. By the end of the day, however, Ginerman had died, presumably of indigestion.