He's a mad, mad, mad, mad, mad hamster

I know we already said our tearful goodbyes, but this is one I couldn't resist blogging about. It's 7:30 a.m., so you know it's good.

We went to eat wings last night, got home at 1:15 a.m., planning on just going to bed, so tired, have to wake up early, etc. And what's attached to the door that leads to the floor our apartment's on?

A note. An 11-by-7 inch piece of nightmare, taped to the door.

"A fury [sic] brown hamster may have escaped from my apartment. If you find him, please see Apt #."

May have? What is that?? Did it, or didn't it? It has a cage, doesn't it? Is it in it? No? OK, then it's gone. Thank you, now that there is certainty, I can go on freaking out.


And why is it so furious? Is that why it left? Were you not changing his sawdust stuff often enough? That would make me furious. Any why did it "escape"? What are you doing in there, holding it hostage? It "escaped"?

For all we know, the fury brown hamster is on a warpath of destruction. Or, of crawling through my hair while I was asleep. I wasn't down with that, so I had Dave walk around with a flashlight, checking under the bed, under the chair, under the couch, behind the bookshelves, in the laundry basket, in the closet, in the bathroom.

Did we find the fury hamster? No. Not yet anyhow. But I'm getting the bleep outta Oshkosh if there's a hamster on the loose.

Well, I suppose it's better than a snake. I would have moved out, took all my belongings and hopped town, never to return, had it been "my fury brown snake may have escaped."