On the top floor of our house is a guest room. A dresser sits in the middle of the room, like an island. Atop that dresser is a red towel and atop that towel is a blue and red plastic cage. Inside that cage? Lives our holiday house guest, a hamster named Bubba.
Well, Bubba 2 if you want to get technical. No we aren’t the ones that killed Bubba 1, that happened months ago.
When I signed the slip allowing K to bring Bubba home for a weekend at the beginning of the school year I had no idea I’d actually be bringing home the little fuzzy red eyed thing for more than 2 weeks.
Since I’m sure you’re all sick of hearing holiday this and joliday that and the SNOWPOCOLYPSE!!! is totally boring, I’ve decided to keep you updated on the goings on of Bubba the Hamster (the 2nd incarnation).
Bubba does nothing, or next to it. We’ve managed to lure him out of his cage once to get him in his exercise ball, but since we’ve put him back in his cage he’s either slept in his space ship, nibbled on food or made himself busy by pulling all of his cage lining into his exercise wheel so he can sleep in it. Obviously it has been mis-named since no actual exercising goes on inside of it.
For the first full day he was here the poor rodent had no privacy as the view from his cage was as such:
Luckily for the little fuzz monster (though a little sadly for me) she has grown weary of Bubba. If I suggest we go check on him she’ll run to do it but honestly I was hoping that she’d be so engaged in Bubba’s every non move that I would be able to clock some serious quiet time and maybe even get some writing done without having to assist in the dressing of 277 Polly Pockets…
No such luck. Yet.