I blame Ratatouille, Mrs Frisby and the Rats of Nimh, and most of all, Stuart Little.
For days and days, I've been dreaming of my adorable wiffy little pets, and the weekend was finally time for me to get them. But when I saw the real hamsters...
How shall I put it? I hadn't reckoned on the snuffling nose, the quivering whiskers, and horrors of horrors, they even squeak. They...are...mice! Rodents! And suddenly, I remembered with stunning clarity, I don't dare to touch mice.
Nothing can be more of a reality check than...reality.
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