The Hamster (It

’s A Essay About A Personal Experience) Essay, Research Paper

George Lagos

Period-3

3/9/97

The Hamster

?Is it dead? What happened!? I said as I rolled my sister?s hamster around in it?s

little cage. It was a Sunday evening when I said these words, I was all alone, and I was

very confused. I didn?t know what I was going to do at that point. The only person who

I could talk to and help me out in this situation was a friend that I had been talking to for a

few minutes. My friend also did not know what I should do. I poked the poor creature

several times to see if it still had any life left in it. Instead of waking up and moving about

its cage, the hamster lay there motionless, like a little stuffed animal. I sat there in the

living room, talking on the phone, and examining the hamster?s cage. My little sister?s

hamster had died while it was under my care.

My parents had gone to San Fransisco for the weekend, and instead of staying at

my grandparents? house like my parents recommended, I decided to stay at home. Both of

my sisters went to my grandparents? house, so I had the whole house to myself. I even

had some company: my sister?s hamster. I was the hamster?s sole caretaker. Without

me, it would starve, die of thirst, or somehow find a way to escape the confines of its little

cage and wreak havoc throughout my parents? house. Because I?ve never taken care of a

hamster before, my sister had to tell me how I was to take care of her hamster. I was to

feed it, make sure there was plenty of water, play with it, and give it some exercise by

putting it inside of a plastic ball and let it run around inside of it for exercise Simple, or so

I thought…

The first day went smoothly, and the hamster was doing its hamster thing: eating,

drinking, and running like crazy inside of its hamster wheel. At certain times of the day I

would put the hamster in the little plastic ball so that it could run around freely. While the

hamster did this, I would watch TV, eat a snack, or talk on the phone with a friend, as the

little hamster ball ran into walls. After several bags of chips and a pizza, the first day had

passed without any problems, and I went to sleep.

The next day I woke up and headed upstairs to the kitchen to eat some breakfast.

After a tasty bowl of Trix, I headed over to the hamster cage. As I peered inside, I

noticed that the hamster wasn?t moving. I observed the hamster for a few minutes, and

then I decided that the hamster was asleep. I put some food in the cage, checked the

water, and went about my business until it was time for me to go to sleep.

On the third and last day of my freedom from my family, I did what I usually

would do on the previous two days: I got up, ate breakfast, and walked to the hamster

cage. As I observed the hamster again, using my great powers of deduction, I found the

truth: The hamster was dead. At first I didn?t believe it. I began to go into a small state

of panic. There were questions running through my mind that I could not answer at that

specific moment in time. ?Is it dead?? ?What will my sister say?? ?Will my sister ever

trust me?? I was scared. I didn?t know why I was scared, or how I was going to deal

with my sister in the immediate future. The worst of my hamster experience happened

very quickly after I discovered the dead hamster. The phone call. Uh oh…

Shortly after the hamster?s death, my mom called, and asked me how everything

was going. Unfortunately, she asked me about the hamster, so I decided to tell the truth

instead of making up some excuse. My mom wasn?t very surprised, and she told me to

get rid of the hamster, so I buried it. I was really pissed and very sad. I think that I was

also scared because I was going to have to tell my little sister what had happened. In fact,

shortly after I buried the little guy, my sister called me from our grandparents? house. The

very first thing that she asked me was, ?How?s my hamster?? Those words hit me like an

uppercut, and I didn?t know what I was going to say. After about five minutes of saying,

?Uh, I don?t know, uh, how is everything,? I decided to tell her the truth. At first she

thought that I was kidding, and she hung up right after I told her. My grandmother called

me to ask if I was playing some mean practical joke, but I told her that I was serious. I

could hear my sister in the background crying as my grandmother bothered me with

questions.

Even though I had told the truth and the worst of the situation was over, an

alternate plan was working through my mind. I could have lied about the hamster, stalled

for time, and bought a hamster that would have resemble the decease hamster, but I had

no way to get to a pet shop. I also decided against this plan because I didn?t want to warp

my little sister?s sense of reality into thinking that living things don?t die, but live on

forever. No, that wouldn?t have been the solution, and even if I successfully did it, I

wouldn?t have felt good about myself. I knew that my sister would get over the hamster?s

death eventually, and she did. In fact, she got over it quickly. She even bought another

hamster. Oh boy…