Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Note: Hamsty's cage and Hamsty's swing!
Nope, we will not blog on this birdy here cos' it's . I'm just trying to make known that I'm a gracious hammy cage lender only. (^^) However, we hope that in future this birdy will be friends with the hammies (previously B.I.R.D is afraid of the hams). That probably will earn it another entry here. =D
Friday, December 18, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Since it's Hermie's birthday month, we feature him in Hamster Hideout's banner contest for this year.
Do join the contest if you have hammies too. The more the merrier! =)
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
In the hands of the kidnapper
He really looks like an innocent victim.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Following that email after many years. We became proud owners of the Hamsty family. And seriously I never had male hamsters until this family began, thus clueless to the needs of the males.
Then one night, I went about doing my own business on my laptop while little Stiggy (Fatty) as usual sat beside me on the bed. As I typed my stuff, I peered over to see what Stiggy was doing. The little one was sort of cleaning himself.
Then something caught my attention. “What’s that pinky color thing?”
On closer examination, I found Stiggy happily sucking his little wee wee.
“Wow!” I called co-owner excitedly. “Stiggy! Stiggy’s pink sticky!”
“What pink sticky?” An annoyed co-owner responded.
“I saw Stig’s pink stick! You know, pink stick!” Co-owner had no idea what was going on until I explained the process to him.
That weekend, co-owner bunked over and was playing with the hammies while I was happily playing Maple Story until midnight. (Hey, duty of caring the hammies needs to be rotated right?)
“Honey. Honey. HONEY!” Co-owner shouting from the room.
“Stop disturbing me. I’m trying to figure out this level!” Annoyed that co-owner disrupted my gameplay with his shrieking in the dead of the night.
“Honey, look honey!” Co-owner ran out from the room towards me with one palm facing me while the other hand grabbing Stiggy.
It didn’t make any sense to me until I saw there was a small lump of opaque jelly on his palm.
“What did you do?” I questioned co-owner. (o_O)
“You told me about the pink stick and I wanted to see for myself.” Co-owner explained.
“So?” I answered matter-of-factly.
“So I thought I try to make his pink stick stand up by tickling him down there.” Chuckled co-owner.
“And within minutes, the pink stick shot up and shoot this liquid out!!” A triumphant co-owner stood proudly while an innocent-looking Stiggy was dangling in his other hand without any knowledge of what conversation the two owners were talking.
I looked at co-owner wide-eyed: “WHAT?! What have you done to my Fatty boy!”
And so, this was how little Stig was molested by the co-owner! -.-
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Read this part one first before part two comes along. =)
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome, including toilet-flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's hamster to the vet.
Here's what happened.
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's lying there looking sick," he told me.
"I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?" I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed.
I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!"
"Oh my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute.
"She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" (I reminded her, in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wonderful expirence, I announced. "We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, Gross!" they shrieked. "Well, isn't THAT just great!
What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too, don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"Its breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared.
I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
"Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a c-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This hamster is NOT in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen ... Ernie is a boy."
"You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um .... um .... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back."
He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just ... just ... excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. "It's just ... that ... I'm picturing you pulling on its ... its ... teeny little ... " she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the hamsters and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The playpen cannot contain her. When she stands up, she is already 2/3 the height of the playpen fence. The wheel there is also too small for her to run.
In the end, she usually climbs over the fence....
And starts climbing all over me. -__-"