Potato gets a bath. He is very good about it, and does not struggle when wrapped in tissue paper.
This really reminds me so much of Ninja. She was just as docile about bathing.
Then I must remember, Potato isn't Ninja. And I mustn't expect him to be like her.
How shall I put it? During my first trauma of losing a pet, I cried so bitterly that I lost my appetite for a few days. Maybe you wonder why a hamster means so much to me, but BigSqueak really did. BigSqueak and PipSqueak were my first pets, and what fun it was to have them! It was so heartwarming to laugh at their absurd ways, to tickle them when they sleep, and to see them feed trustingly out of my hand. Then, suddenly and without warning or apparent reason, BigSqueak died. I still have no idea why.
Greatly alarmed by my reaction, V decided to get me more furkids, you know...to spread the love around so that if one does die, there are many others to distract and comfort me. And thus begins the growth of our menagerie.
But emotions do not work like that. Maybe the subsequent grief of losing other furkids stopped surprising me with its intensity, but each of them still leave a little mark behind. Looking at Ninja's old photos reminded me of how much I loved her. Cute as Potato is, he doesn't quite replace her. Each of them is unique, and how fond my memories of them are! The saddest thing is, hamsters have really short life spans, even at their healthiest. Should I just stop having them as pets?
I don't know.
Days like this, my only real comfort is remembering that one day, in God's kingdom, there will not be such bereavement anymore.