Requiem for a hamster

It’s the little things in life that are important. And for a little girl in Conifer, a small thing has left her life, and she’s pretty sad about it.

Garlands the hamster, voted Conifer’s first unofficial mayor in 2009, passed away in November. Garlands was 3 years old.

Garland’s owner and human companion, Phoebe McKeown, 8, said she misses Garlands.

“I’ve been sad for a little bit,” Phoebe said.

Phoebe said she didn’t know Garlands’ precise cause of death, but she knew he was getting old for a hamster.

Phoebe said Garlands’ funeral was a private affair, and he was buried in a box in the back yard.

“My dad got a shovel and dug a hole, and we buried him,” she said.

Phoebe quickly changed the subject and walked quietly away.

All things great and small
Phoebe isn’t alone in her grief over losing a precious pet; every day people deal with the loss of a beloved animal, a companion of the heart. Love comes in all shapes and sizes, and Phoebe has joined those of us who have loved and cherished an animal.

Both literature and life are filled with the relationship between a chosen animal and its human companion. Veterinarian and author James Herriot wrote a series of animal books, and one of his fictional characters was Walt Barnett, an unsmiling, tight-fisted merchant in the town of Darrowby. The only thing Barnett had a soft spot for was a cat named Fred. Barnett, tough as nails and as pleasant as a plug of tobacco, sobbed when his beloved pet died. Embarrassed by his show of emotion, Barnett accused Herriot of thinking him weak for crying over a cat. Herriot’s response was that he never liked the man better in his life. Something about animals brings out the humanity in us, even the Barnetts of the world.

Many people remember their lives through the progression of animals that walk on four legs across our hearts.

Sam in 1985, Bones in 1987, Boyfriend in 1995, Jack and Nina in 2003, have all left paw prints next to the footsteps of my life.

Many people have made a trip to a shelter to find a dog or cat. Some people routinely cruise the rows of pens filled with barking dogs with eager paws that reach through chain-link fences and plead for attention. Or they visit the rooms with cubicles of cats that have withdrawn into a ball or sit Sphinx-like, waiting.

I know plenty of people who rescue animals or take bags of dog and cat food, toys and brushes to shelters regularly and are on a first-name basis with the shelter’s staff. They shop the aisles at stores and imagine feeding or playing with an anonymous dog or cat they will never own. Through kibble and toys, donors express their compassion and ease the animals’ wait for whatever destiny the universe delivers.

In death, our animals become legends. We can forgive them the scratched furniture, the occasional soiled rug, the closet full of single shoes. We remember the good and learn from the bad.

As adults, we know the terrible secret, that most of those eager paws and liquid eyes will one day breathe their last, sometimes alone on the street or held by loving arms on a familiar lap, or in a quiet corner of a cage. For kids, the most poignant pet is the first one that that teaches us about death.

It takes courage to love and see a pet through from juvenile fuzzball to elder crony. Whether their life is short or long, what we owe them is the best life possible.

So, welcome to the one of the best parts of humanity, Miss Phoebe — the love we are lucky enough to have with a furry companion, our beloved animals.

This piece ran in the Opinion section of the High Timber Times, December 8, 2010.