I have a new office-mate. Her name is Selena Gomez.
She’s about six inches long and looks like a tiny black bear. And she’s the noisiest little hamster in the world. She has become my office-mate because my son (thirteen years old; hence the name Selena Gomez) was tired of being awakened at 3:00 in the morning by Selena swinging on top of the water bottle, or climbing to the top of her wheel and scrabbling at the mesh top of her cage, or flipping her little hamster houses.
I came downstairs to work, and there was a hamster on my desk. She is a very noisy office-mate. Luckily she sleeps all day.
I think my son would be a little more accepting if the real Selena Gomez were so noisy, but alas, she is not the real Selena Gomez, so I have come to accept that she is probably here for the long haul. Cleo the horrible kitten has been frantically trying to kill Selena, so I had to put her in a cubby where she would be safe. So now I’ve got a shelf-full of crap to find a new home for, a hamster in my desk hutch, and two cat beds on the cedar chest. If the sun is shining through the office window and all four of the cats come to claim their patch of sunshine, this place will be a zoo.
Sometimes I lay in bed listening to the sounds of silence. To Boo and Princess howling and wrestling. To Selena doing acrobatics. To Big Bundy, the miniature hamster, running for hours on her wheel. To Lila the mouse digging tunnels through her bedding. To Sheri’s clock tick tick ticking away the minutes before I have to get up. To be honest, it’s kind of a jungle in my house. How am I supposed to sleep through all the night-time shenanigans? And now I have to work through them too?
I think we have to accept that we might have a pet problem.