Hazzard Ahead
Johnny Hazzard Blog

Monday, May 14th 2007

Little Animal, Creeps About, Not A Rat

Posted by Johnny

At an airport recently I caught a glimpse of a hamster, or maybe it was a gerbil, on a poster with its wheel. It was a metaphor for the human habit of continuously circling with no where to go. I found the image a bit unsettling; though, it reminded me of one of the funniest stories that my immediate family shares. I believe this is one of Ma H’s favorites too, and yes it has everything to do with hamsters, or was it gerbils?

I was in the 8th grade. My mother, Aimie and I were somewhere and they had hamsters for sale. After a double team by Aimie and me, Ma H caved in and bought one for me. On the ride home I was happily getting to know my little, furry friend. I put my finger through the hole to introduce myself and was met with several jagged little teeth that easily pierced my flesh.

I screamed and shook my finger spraying the interior of the mini van and Aimie with blood. This was not starting well at all.

We got home and after I washed my finger and bandaged it up I began to construct a home for my violent, furry friend. This was enjoyable because I loved to build things at that age. While I constructed his cage I had visions of a plastic tubing fortress built with multi-leveled chambers connected by rodent runways spanning the length of my room.

The experience worked out so well that Ma H agreed to allow me to expand the population by two more. They were all the same sex because I wanted to avoid any reproducing; I had heard that the young were in danger of being consumed by one or both of their parents once born or something horrific like that. To accommodate the growing population I went out and bought one of those elaborate plastic hamster mansions with the plastic tubes and connectors. My vision was starting to come together.

One morning soon after the construction was completed, Ma H woke me up by saying that one of the hamsters had been found in the dryer. He was alive, just trapped. I still have no idea how he got down there since the basement was where the laundry facilities were and he had somehow managed to descend three floors. I scooped him up and found that he had chewed through one of the plastic connectors. I searched the village for the rest of the inhabitants only to find that they too had decided to join in the exodus. I had one of three. Ma H asked if the others had escaped as well and I told her that they had not. I then went to my brother to inform him of the situation. He offered no help since he was denied access to the hamsters or anything to do with them.

I went to school that day thinking over and over where they could have gone and also wondering why in the Sam Hill the manufacturer created such a shitty product. It was designed for hamsters, but on the first try the little bugger chewed right through it like it was cardboard.

I arrived home and I searched and searched until it was time for dinner with no luck. Mid way through dinner, during a quiet moment in the conversation, I noticed both my parents exchange a look of bewilderment. It took me a moment to figure out what the looks were about. There was a scratching sound that seemed to be coming from the ceiling. I looked at my brother. He matched my look with the same degree of concern and panic. We knew what the scratching was. Somehow the refugees had managed to find their way in between the floor of the upstairs and the ceiling of the kitchen where we were now eating our pork chops and trying to mask our panic.

After dinner, Carmen and I devised a plan. There was no way that we could get to the space beneath us, but our cats could. This was very unnerving as we wanted to avoid bloodshed and rescue the little guys from beneath our feet.

We sent Harvey in. Harvey was the most docile of our three cats. He never brought home mangled corpses and never seemed to want to kill anything; the other two were a different story and were not allowed upstairs during Operation Habitrail.

Harvey went in and under quite happily as Carmen and I waited anxiously hoping that our parents had dismissed the sound to a bird or something; we lived in the country so the concept of a stray critter somewhere in the house was pretty standard fare.

After about three minutes of biting our nails and thinking the worst we received confirmation of contact. The confirmation came in the form a high pitched scream that we only assumed came from the frightened floor dweller. We had a hand held mirror that we rigged up so we could see down the length of the plank with aid from a heavy duty flashlight.

I wedged myself in the crawlspace, arranged my surveillance gear and saw Harvey calmly looking at the dusty creature standing on his hind legs screaming. I had no idea that hamsters could utter such a shriek, but they can and he did.

Remarkably the flashlight attracted him like a moth. He scurried by Harvey, who was looking rather confused, right up to my flashlight and into the palm of my hand. Success! Carmen and I now had our plan in order. We would use Harvey to track down the last hamster, listen for the shriek and use the light to attract him back to camp. The only foreseeable flaw would be if we couldn’t get to where we needed to be. Luckily that was not the case; he was only five planks over in the floor of Carmen’s room.

Operation Habitrail was a success. Harvey was awarded with corn on the cob for his gallantry and all the hamsters were returned to base a little dirty, but otherwise unharmed. Unfortunately, that was the end of my vision. The small city I had built was broken into angry pieces and the inhabitants were relocated to a slum of wire cages.

Years later we told our parents of our evening of search and rescue and their reply was…

“You Little Shits!”



27 Comments for this post

 
cometdogg Says:

Viva le hamster. I used to have a few. One fell asleep on me while watching cartoons. The other passed away sadly. But I love the cute critters.

Oh and hello.

 
D_E Says:

I love tales of brothers and/or sisters plotting something ingenious together, without their parents’ knowledge. I bet they were secretly proud of you, when eventually you fessed up.

 
Johnny Says:

Yes that is just one “tale” of many.
Living in the country and being the outdoorsmen that we were we got into a lot of things and often brought them home.
O and hello to you as well comet.

 
Rita PHL Says:

Johnny, now you know you’re going to have to dig up some pictures!

 
Johnny Says:

Pictures, of what dare I ask, the hamsters?.

 
Rita PHL Says:

Of course, Johnny. No photograph is more darling than a kid with his pets! Goodness, my interest is totally innocent! I typically leave the more suggestive items to the experts … er, Frog!

 
Boy Wonder Says:

Lies! All lies! (except about The Frog, of course) ;-)

You may have noticed there have never been photos of a young Johnny on this site.

Hmmmmmmm…

 
the frog Says:

Don’t push me, Rita and BW. Or I’ll whip up a poem about Johnny’s hamsters that will make everyone here and at PETA turn green.

As you all should be in the first place.

 
Boy Wonder Says:

We are green, darling, with envy and worship. We only dare to challenge you for the resulting rewards. Indulge us, s’il vous plaît.

 
Johnny Says:

I was wondering when the hamster jokes would start filtering in.

 
Boy Wonder Says:

As long as your resemblance to Richard Gere doesn’t come into play…

 
elfgirl Says:

I really need to remember not to drink anything while reading this blog. *Thanks*, BW. :P

Now I have to figure out how to clean tea out of my keyboard…

 
Boy Wonder Says:

This is America – buy a new one.

Seriously though, I don’t think you can participate in this blog without drinking. :-)

 
D_E Says:

Well, here’s to a good gig tonight then! *raises glass*

 
Boy Wonder Says:

Oh, that’s right. Johnny is flying to Vancouver today. No wonder he hasn’t been answering my calls.

 
gcracker Says:

Either that or he’s scared you’re gonna talk about hamsters… after admitting all of that so publicly, I might not answer my phone either. :P

 
Boy Wonder Says:

Graham – I’m glad to see you decided to take the plunge and join up! I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’ve never rejected a comment on this site. It’s shocking, I know. For some reason Johnny attracts a very classy and diverse audience. Well, at least those that comment…

Welcome!

 
the frog Says:

No Richard Gere comment allowed? Damn, there goes my hamster poem down the drain…

 
Boy Wonder Says:

Feel free to go whole, um, frog – I just wanted first dibs on that gag! You know we all wait in sweet anticipation of your amphibious prose.

 
the frog Says:

I swore I wouldn’t write another poem and even if I did I could never come up with something so sugar-sweet (at least not without barfing, as we all know.) Anyway my aunt Denise forwarded me this thing she got from her friend at the “Truckin’ & Sewin’ Club.” Apparently the lady found this tiny, almost undecipherable piece of writing when cleaning her son’s bedroom after he left home, and couldn’t make head or tail of it. Neither can I but I suspect she censored the best parts.

Left a good pet shop in the city
Riding on a truck to the country
Nothing much to eat
Except a fingertip
No wonder its tasty owner threw a fit

Big wheels keep on turning
Happy Meals keep on crying
And we’re rolling, rolling
on the floor our ass off laughing

Spent a lot of time in that fortress
And met a lot of mates down in Rodent Palace
But I never saw the good side of a wheel cage
Until I caught a ride at the clothes drying stage

Big wheels keep on turning
Proud Johnny keeps on dreaming
And we’re gnawing, gnawing
Through the plastic housing

If you come down to the basement
Bet you’re gonna find more than one rodent
You don’t have to worry
about making a baby
He wants us to be queer
as a gerbil in Gere

Big wheels keep on turning
The Hazzards keep on eating
And we’re dancing, dancing
On the kitchen ceiling

Three blind mice could have been running
That cat wouldn’t move if its tail was burning
And they say cats are bright
Well, not as much as this light
at the end of the tunnel – are we dying?

Big wheels keep on turning
Harvey just keeps on staring
And we’re moving, moving
Moving into light and dancing

(with apologies to Creedence Clearwater, Ike & Tina, Richard Gere, Ma and Harvey Hazzard)

 
Boy Wonder Says:

Once again, I bow to thee, Frog!

You are the official amphibian of Hazzard Ahead!

What would we do without you?

 
Genor Says:

Johnny… loved loved LOVED the story! Just hilarious. More of those please! Frog… you are da Frog! Wet kisses my lover. Boy Wonder… you are stealing my heart. I’ll be in America’s heartland tomorrow… OKC, OK. Yee Haw!

 
gcracker Says:

Frog…that was amazing. I laughed, I cried (no, I just laughed)…I got songs I haven’t heard since I was seven stuck in my head (Three blind mice…see how they run…) I’m in awe.

BW, the only thing that’s kept me from joining the blog is that I kept thinking I had to pay. It was pointed out that I didn’t…the dim bulb brightened, and now here I am. :)

 
Boy Wonder Says:

Yeah, I was the one that did the pointing. Anyone with such a high opinion of Hazzard Ahead contributors should be one! Welcome aboard.

 
the frog Says:

Thank you guys [*takes a bow, blows a kiss to hubby Genor*] And welcome, gcracker. I feel it my duty to warn you that you shouldn’t take everything Boy Wonder writes literally. Now, about that payment: please address your cheques to The Frog, Smallpond, France. Thank you.

 
Johnny Says:

Welcome aboard gcracker!

Frog, you’re amazing!!!!

 
the frog Says:

[*swoons/faints from happiness*]

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