Hampster Brains
We are watching a hamster for my brother, who is watching it for his girl friend. Who has moved, so I’m a little unsure why he says he is “watching” it when it appears that he is, you know, stuck with it. Indefinitely.
The hamster has a ball you can put her in, and she rolls around on the floor. It’s, oh, I don’t know—the size of a nerf ball.
The cats are fascinated. They keep following it, but it’s too big to grab. And every once in a while the hamster turns around and runs at them, but she’s a hamster, so she’s not so bright. She keeps running. Right into them. And bounces off them like they were a chair or other piece of furniture. Except, unlike furniture, they jump backwards.
I’m not entirely certain this is a nice thing to do to the hamster, mostly because she seems to have concluded that if the cats jump away, so will the couch. She keeps hitting the couch and pausing, like she can’t figure out why it’s still there.
On the other hand, she’s a hamster. She probably doesn’t think very much at all. But then, neither do the cats. They’ll get on very well, I bet.