The Flying Hamster

Today I visited the pet store. I want to get a pair of mice, though my mother will not allow it; but I still thought it might be nice to take a look. I have been reading the Tale of Beatrix Potter and was most likely and very unnecessarily inspired by her.

"During Beatrix's visit to Gloucestershire, two mice had been caught in a cage-trap in the kitchen of Harescombe Grange, and she had rescued them from the cook and brought them home and tamed them. She named them Tom Thumb and Hunca Munca...Hunca Munca, the female mouse, showed great character from the first, and revealed an affectionate disposition and a housewifely nature, so that she became a pet as well as an artist's model."

The pet store featured no mice but gerbils and hamsters, and I am so terribly tired of hamsters that have escaped and run wild in the corners of our house only to be discovered two days later under the shoe shelf, having quite forgotten their domesticated selves. Or if they were really daring, they took a flying leap of misplaced faith out the window like a certain Houdini (the hamster, not the magician).

Just as I was to take my leave, I glanced at the advertisements tacked to the announcement board in the front. Puppies seeking homes. House trained. Because of sickness in family, cat brothers need new place of residence. Neutered. Lonely ragdoll/maine coon looking for new owner. Very sociable. I ripped the number off the last one. I can't get a cat. I know that. My mother has allergies. I would have no place to keep it. And how long until I leave this place altogether? But still, taking that little piece of paper made me feel as if I could, maybe, some day keep one of my own.