The Zoo

My sister's hamster died a while back. We were all sitting around the living room passing this poor hamster around during her last few hours. Grown people. Crying. Over a little hamster named Jorge (whore' hey). Yes my sister named it a boy's name. She was a sapphire winter white, which around here is almost unheard of. We live in Misery. Really, that's what we call our state. A state where our former mayor held gang summits to promote peace. The gangs thought it was really nice, and decided to send a few more guys out here to settle down. Anyway,back to the ham. I had found the little furball in a store one hot summer day. I picked up the one that didn't bite me first thing, and bought it. My sister had told me the month before that she had seen a little tan dwarf hamster she liked. Well, this one was cooler I thought. She was ecstatic.

I spent more money on that furball than I have ever spent on any hamster.Toys from the pet store, and she wanted a paper tube! Dad fabricated a big cardboard tube play thing for her. It took her a month to chew it all, and she loved every minute of it. We got her a special mouse sized ball so she could play in the house and run around. This was when the dog was still in the house. Andy (the dog) taught Jorge how to run in the ball by kicking it a few times. After Jorge regained her senses, she started running. She became a Schwartznegger ham. She went over berber carpet with ease after the first week. Dad also told the dog not to touch her again or he was going to live outside. The dog had remarkable hearing. Jorge was safe. Dad did almost kill her once though. He left the basement door open, and there are steep stairs going almost straight down. We heard thump! Thump! Thump!

By the 4th thump we rescued Jorge. And accidentally locked dad downstairs. She even got a bath once. Not by choice. Shortly after bringing her home, my sister had the bright idea of picking her up after eating a hamburger. Chomp! Then Jorge was flying in the air and PLOP! Into the sink. Luckily she landed on the top dishes in the sink, and only got a short dunking. After that, my sister made sure to wash her hands, and keep Jorge away from the sink.

We even got her a mate, a regular dwarf ham, that my sister named Captain Morgan. Morgan had an accident at the pet store, and was unable to make little Morgans. Jorge definately was the decision maker in the aquarium; Morgan often was relegated to sleeping under the water bottle. She would chase him out of her favorite bed- a dog food can- and make him fend for himself overnight. She would take his food and squeak at him. She sounded a lot like she was nagging.

Not even a year later, she suddenly lost weight, a lot of it. We kept feeding her vitamins, and tried to feed her good treats to bulk her up again. Then she got fat, and her sides bulged. Dad and I both checked her, it was a huge tumor. She started to sleep the last two weeks, a lot. Her illness came on fast. The last day, we all sat around the living room and petted her. She laid there with eyes half closed, her breathing labored, letting us say goodbye. Oddly, we cried more for Jorge than any person that had passed away in our family.

I made a box that day for my sister. She wouldn't touch Jorge when she closed her eyes. That night, after my sister retired early, I placed Jorge on a bed of cotton in the box. While I slept that morning, my sister and father buried her under a tree my sister liked in the back yard.

I found another winter white ham just before Christmas. Took my sister to see it. She said, no more. There will never be another Jorge, and I don't want another. Poor kid.

Wheelchairs

For my birthday, my sister got sick, I met my mom's new husband, got a migraine, and my ex-fiancee e-mailed me. Oh yeah, I was born on Dec 25th. I am a whopping 29 now. My mom started off with, "Well, you certainly don't LOOK your age." Does that mean I look 40???? So I wake up around noon, (which is very early for a graveyard shift worker) and my dad was calling to tell me that my little sister had gone over to my g-pas house for x-mas dinner at 9am. Mom's idea of dinner is somewhere between 10am and 3pm. Grandpa wasn't there when I arrived. He told my dad that he doesn't want to celebrate Christmas. He went to his girlfriends parents house to celebrate there. She's a year younger than my mom. Anyway,back to the story.

I walk in, my sister had her head down at the table, moaning about her migraine. I turn while arguing with her to meet Droopy the Dog. No wait, that was mom's new hubby. He's a nice guy, but he bears a startling resemblance to that cartoon. A far cry from my Viking-looking father. Mom did say he was nothing to look at... Which meant he was rich. My sister very earnestly told him she was going to kill him for cheating at cards. He was stupid enough to laugh. Mom burnt the ham, but somehow didn't dry out the turkey. It was great. So around 3pm my sister and I go home. I found out my sister decided to throw up. For three days, I checked on her, kept a barf bucket by her, and basically catered to her, because I know how much I hate getting sick. Monday rolls around. My dad said he felt feverish. Great. Joy. Murphy will dictate that I will be puking for New Year's.

My aunt comes over and wants to go to Nebraska furniture mart. I don't want to leave my sister. She might get sick, or burn the house down while I am gone. She agrees to go if I push her in a shopping cart. Yes, a 19 year old in a shopping cart. So my aunt pretends she's in the seat of an Indy car with dad, my sister and I all holding onto our "Jesus straps" praying that we die instantly if she hits something. Somehow we make it unscathed. Upon entering the mammoth store, my sister finds a wheelchair. Yep you guessed it, she plops down in one of the 16 available ones. She's already worn out from the car ride, and this time, I can't blame her. I tell her to make sure the brakes are off.

So I begin pushing her and we go up the elevator to check out couches for my aunt. I keep thinking she is hard to push, and am getting used to pushing her. My sister and I wander off while my dad and aunt wait for a salesperson. My sister had fun touching all the suede and leather couches... She has a cow fetish I guess. That and she wanted to pass on her disease to everyone. She keeps complaining that people are smiling at her, and that I keep running her into things. We get to the beds and are wandering around the kids bunk beds. A lady with 4 kids clambering on everything is near us. I look down at my sister while we pass an interesting bunk bed and say " hey that's cool". My sister replies,"yeah just what I can do, climb all over that thing". The lady's jaw drops and she and the kids suddenly disappear. Odd. Then sis looks at the wheelchair and says"Huh! There's TWO brakes?!Heh, let me take the other off." I could have killed her.

A few minutes later, in grownup beds, a saleslady comes up to us. I swear she was Tammy Faye's sister. "How are you doing, is there anything I can help you with?". Never missing a beat, my sister replies"I can't feel my legs, and I'm in a wheelchair. How do you THINK I'm doing?" She blinks, says "ok, let me know if you need anything" and scurries off. Odd.

So we go back to the elevator and jes is grumbling still. As the car approaches, she says very loudly "WHY does everyone keep SMILING at me? HA ha smile at the cripple, god that's annoying. Everyone is smiling, keep smiling at the cripple!" A guy with a shopping cart gets off the elevator, and smiles at her. As we get in the car, she says, "I have a finger for you!"

After about half the store's salespeople tried to help us, we finally find dad and our aunt. My sister keeps yelling at me because I overshoot where to stop her when we look at stuff. "dangit! I cant see! Turn me around!" She says this loud enough for people 50 feet away to hear. My aunt is laughing. We stroll down a few range isles, and in one, yet another herd of kids is playing on the floor. The mom sees my sister and I, and snaps at the kids. "get up! You're IN the isle!" I look at the lady and smile, "its ok, we're just looking." By that time, the kids are gone, and the mother is veritably running away from us. I don't steer THAT bad. My sister continues to glower like a grumpy old man.

Finally we reach the front doors again, and I park my sister with the other chairs. I tell her she has to walk to the car. So we all troop out, with my sister lagging behind. In the car, we tell dad how everyone was trying to help jes. Dad said they had to go looking for help. I said next time keep her with you.