Grayson owns a little Black Bear Hamster. Actually, he's not that little. He's about the size of a Wendy's baked potato, minus the tin foil. He is also the most hapless escape artist in history. Four times since Christmas, he has escaped from his cage in the wee hours of the night, only to be caught immediately. It happened again last night.
About 1am, I heard Zion crying, so I got out of bed and headed across the hall to comfort him. For some reason, we'd left the light on in the kitchen. It cast a pale glow the length of the house, enabling me to spot movement out of the corner of my right eye as I crossed the hallway. I turned my head to the right just in time to see Escaped Convict #52345 turning the corner into the foyer.
I mashed down on the red button on the wall, setting off lights & a siren, all the while yelling "HAMSTER OUT! HAMSTER OUT! WE NEED HELP, NOW! BACK UP! BACK UP IN THE HALLWAY! HAMSTER OUT!"
Kelsey got out of bed and came into the hallway half asleep. I positioned her in the foyer and headed around into the living room. After faking right and going left, the hamster waddled back down the hallway from whence we had come....except this time all the bedroom doors were shut. Victory was in my grasp. "YOU GOT NO WHERE TO GO, FUZZ BALL!"
He was back in his cell in 5 minutes...wondering "How in the heck do that DO that?"
We do it because we're superior, fuzz ball. We are the ascended masters of the sub division. And you are a rodent. Take that.