Exactly one year ago yesterday I received my lovely/schizophrenic hamster Ophelia.
It seems like just yesterday that I entered the pet store while hamster hunting and can across a singular incredibly pissed-off rodent. Ophelia was so ill tempered the owner of the store gave her to me because he was afraid to sell her to a child.
Since I first got her she seemed, oddly enough, to become more and more infatuated with me everyday (she likes to express love through making me bleed), but I mean who wouldn’t like me? Life with Caveman is all fun, peppered with Twizzlers and snack cakes.
Sometimes I lie awake at night listening to the infernal squeak (squeak, squeak, squeak) of the hamster wheel, and I figure the end of “us” will come once she grows bored of me. When that day comes there is no more turning my back on her cage because she seems like the type that would ambush you.
To me, she has become a kind of bitey pain in my ass that I’m surprised I haven’t accidentally killed yet, but I love the hell out of her.