FAWNEY THE HAMPSTER

When our daughter was about seven years old, she bought a hamster. Because of its color, which was a light tan, she named it 'Fawney.' It was a bright, active, friendly creature, just the sort of pet an apartment dwelling family could keep.

Fawney tamed nicely and, before long, she and daughter were great friends. In fact, they got along so well together that our daughter would frequently take Fawney out of her cage without any concern about having Fawney escape into the overstuffed furniture, or out the door.

This companionship proved to be a great, unrecognized hazard for Fawney, however. One day and some how, Fawney received a serious back injury while out of the cage. I have no clear idea how it happened. But, Fanwey's spine was damaged. Our daughter was both crushed and, probably feeling guilty about the injury to this bright, friendly companion.

For Fawney, it seemed to be no big deal. At once, the plucky little hamster adjusted to the injury and to the changes in behavior the injury demanded. With her back legs largely, if not entirely paralyzed, the hamster merely pulled itself along using the front legs. Moreover, there was little, if any, change in the level of activity. The hamster still spent time in its activity wheel, ate normally, and played with our daughter, much as it had before the injury. Certainly, the hamster held no 'grudge' against daughter for the injury, and remained a bright, cheery, interesting pet.

Some time later, I judge it to have been several weeks, the hamster managed to injure its left eye. It soon became evident that vision in that eye was completely, or nearly completely, gone. The eye turned from bright pink to milky white.

Again, the hamster adjusted to the new circumstance at once, and with apparently little problem. Fawney now had to move her head more, and to a greater degree, but easily adjusted to those demands.

The hamster remained active, alert, and almost always on the move. Two major handicaps seemed as easy to bear as one had been earlier, and as none had been, earlier still.

One morning, as our daughter was getting ready to go to school, she looked in Fawney's cage. Fawney was not out and about in the cage, as she usually was. Daughter called to Fawney and tapped on the side of the cage, something that almost never failed to bring the hamster out of its shelter.

No response.

Daughter tapped some more and called.

Nothing.

Finally, she opened the cage and lifted the box that Fawney used as her house. There she lay. Quite stiff and quite dead. Sometime during the night, the brave and stalwart little hamster had simply died, whether from complications arising because of the injuries or whether because she had reached the normal lifespan of a hamster, we never knew.

Our daughter was devastated. She cried so much, we could not bear to send her to school that day. Instead, we solemnly helped our daughter prepare the hamster for burial, helped her chose an appropriate gravesite, and aided in the burial. After the burial, our daughter became philosophical about the loss of her doughty little companion. She realized that small animals do not typically live very long, and that Fawney had actually lived much longer that expected, given her two injuries.

She realized that Fawney had, in a sense, really beaten the odds by surviving two major physical disabilities and by living in a more-or-less normal fashion as long as she had.

Almost as if by force of will, the little hamster had adjusted, at once, to the crippling effects of the back injury and to the limitations imposed by the loss of vision in one eye.

In fact, daughter seemed to draw strength from the example set by the little hamster. She would say, in the weeks and months which followed Fawney's death, something to the effect that if Fawney could adjust to such major injuries, surely she could handle the much smaller misfortunes and obstacles that came her way.

Yes, Fawney's name and her memory became a beacon of strength for us all. What a gallant little animal. What acceptance. What adaptability. What persistence in the face of adversity. No crying. No complaining. No 'what might have beens.'

Whatever happened, happened. She adjusted immediately and effectively. And, she lived on, probably to the average age for little, fawn-colored hamsters. She was a survivor, right to the end. Fawney had a tenacious hold on life!