A story: This morning, I lumbered out of bed and dragged myself into the shower. I was sudsing up my hair, thinking deeply about something I've now forgotten, and I heard a crash. Almost immediately, I knew what it was:
Wicket likes to sit on top of the hamster cage. To keep her from doing that, we put it on a bookshelf. So far so good. She had only attempted to get up there one time up to this point, but I caught her. This time, she pulled it over on top of herself.
Awful thoughts were spinning around in my head: that Wicket had pulled over the tank, crushing/cutting herself or Sixie. If not, Sixie was a playtoy that Wicket was smacking around. So I ran out, hair full of suds, dripping from head to toe, just in time to catch the hamster running away. I managed to spirit her away into her ball before a) one of the cats got her or b) she disappeared into the secret passageways of the house that only rodents find.
In the end, it turned out alright:
The only reason she's wet and crazy looking is because I was wet and crazy looking when I picked her up :o)
Looks like we'll be going to PetSmart today...
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