When I became a mother, I was prepared to face all kinds of nuttery: spit-up, vomit, excrement on the floor/walls/furniture…you know, the typical stuff.
A job I was completely unprepared for? Pet Assassin.
Not a coveted job, Pet Assassin.
When I got the call for the hit, I was nursing my mother after her bladder surgery, because my father cannot be trusted.
“Honey,” my husband hissed into the phone. “We have a situation.”
“I’m already in a situation, dork,” I said. “Just deal.”
“No, really. Uh, you know how it’s late start at school today?”
“Well Miss M. (the little one) took the hamster out to play with him and…um…both of his back legs aren’t working and his head is listing to one side?”
“Hold on,” I tell him. I Google it. Apparently, hamsters can have strokes. Who knew?
“I’m an hour away,” I remind him.
“No, you don’t get it. She’s freaking hysterical. I have to drop them at school and go to work in half an hour. She can’t come home to a dead hamster in the cage.”
I threaten my father with death if he neglects my mother, jump in the car and speed recklessly home.
Damned if that sucker still be alive.
Google: How to Humanely Kill a Hamster.
There is a startling amount of Internet information re: hamster slaughter. And nobody seems to agree on the subject.
After I wade through the angry PETA rants about how wrong it is to kill rodents, I weigh my options.
Take him to the vet? I am so not paying 50 bucks for this.
Freeze him? I don’t think I’d be able to use my freezer again after Iceman Rodent.
Place in a pillowcase and whack him violently against a wall? What sadist recommended that?
Put in a cooler of dry ice? Ditto the death of the cooler after that.
Stuff in a glass container, duct tape him to car tailpipe, turn on ignition and carbon monoxide it to death? WAY too complicated.
I look at the clock and startle. The girls are due home from school. In. Fifteen. Minutes.
Terror-stricken, I grab a Ziploc baggie, dump the sleeping hammie in Ziploc, seal, and…
Crush the dude violently with a Le Crueset Dutch oven. Then I vomit all over the whole business.
My name is Dana. I am a Hamster Slayer. The shit we mommies have to do…
Hubs comes home that evening singing Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads, but it’s “Hamsta killer/dada dadada/Smack flat with a Le Crueset.” He laughs hysterically.
I’m gonna need a bigger Dutch oven….
About the Writer
Dana Talusani is a former teacher and former personal chef; she gave up both careers for the glamorous life of wiping butts and digging out boogers. She writes and snarks at http://thekitchwitch.com.