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HAMSTERS
When I was young I had hamsters.
Actually I had several hamsters.
Brown and furry, short tails, perky ears.
You know the type.
The kind that causes more trouble than a little sister could.
Hamsters that is.
The first was Sparky.
Purchase with save allowance money.
Transported in a thin cardboard box.
He escaped before I got him home.
The driving with a ”mouse” underfoot left much to be desired.
Mom that is.
The next was also Sparky.
Cupped carefully in my hands,
He was carried to our door.
He lived in a small cage made by my brother.
He was not a bad sort.
Sparky that is.
The second was a playful little guy.
He ran to and fro, up and down.
He would always return to me,
When tempted by a sunflower seed.
Then he tempted the cat.
Sparky that was.
Then there was number three.
The smartest of the lot.
He loved to play.
And he later proved a talent.
He caused my father the most in aggregation.
Sparky that is.
The cage posed little problem.
He often escaped from his box.
He opened the lid and scurried about.
He ran circles in the bedroom floor.
But every morning he was back ready for his rest.
Sparky that is.
It happen late one night.
In his scurries front to back.
He discovered a doorway.
A path to the rest of the house.
It was the last we seen of him real close.
Sparky that is.
He found his perfect place.
A place in which to play.
Running up and down to his delight.
Every night at about 1am he danced.
A walse on the strings of our piano. Sparky that is.
Plink, tink, tunk, thud, thump.
The notes went high to low.
Thump, thud, tunk, tink, plink.
He ran the strings to high.
But what he lacked in rhythm he made up for in speed. Sparky that is.
He played all night.
My father yelled and threatend him.
Plink, tink, tunk, thud, thump.
Thump, thud, tunk, tink, plink.
He still attended his return engagement
Sparky that is.
The music was loud in the darkness of night.
Father’s curses were louder I guess.
Something had to be done about the rat.
He would stop the music he swore.
I never dreamed the extent he would go to be rid of him.
Father that is.
He set mousetraps for him to avoid.
There was poison for him to ignore.
He could dodge the thrown shoes and books.
Plink, tink, tunk, thud, thump.
There was but one thing left to do.
For Father that is.
He needed his sleep.
He worked hard so I could eat and sleep.
But he went to such extremes.
Plink, tink, tunk, thud, thump.
He sold the piano!
Father that is.
Now they live together in peace.
Neither bother the other.
Forever more he made is precesence known.
In the most unusual way.
He had a thousand short tail babies to leave behind.
Sparky that is.
Royce E Tuck