Today, before I left for school, I found Hammy lying in his cage, deader than a doornail.  Hammy is (okay, was) my pet golden hamster.

I thought he was just sleeping, but when I touched his fur, I was shocked to find it colder than normal.  He also felt stiff.  That's when I knew.  Hammy had died sometime during the night.  He was fine before I went to bed ... at first I thought "Horatio", our dumb Ragdoll cat, had gotten my hamster, but there was no evidence of foul play or even any blood.  So there was no way the cat could have gotten him.

I was so upset, I called for mom and dad.  At the sound of my voice, both came running, asking me what was wrong.  One look on my face told them the entire story, as did pointing to Hammy's cage, where he still lay on the straw, not moving an inch.

Dad said he would probably end up feeding the hamster to "Horatio"; I told him don't you dare.  I would bury him in the backyard (and probably cry my eyes out as I did).  That was what I did.  I don't know when I had cried so much.  I hadn't cried this hard since losing  Grandmere Terese to diabetes (and other health problems) last year.  She wasn't even sixty two when she up and died.

After I buried Hammy, I then went to school.  I didn't want to go, but mom and dad insisted that I should, "to help keep my mind off of Hammy", they told me.  Well, that didn't work out very well: other kids (and my teachers) knew something was up.  They knew I had been crying: my eyes, face, neck, and nose were all red and blotchy.  They asked me what was wrong; I began blubbering all over again as I told them about Hammy dying.

It was one of my worst days ever.

I just got home from school a little bit ago; it is a miracle I even made it through the day.  Yet I don't feel like eating or doing anything.  I see Hammy's empty cage sitting there in my bedroom and it is all I can do to keep from smashing it against the wall or throwing it out the window.  I am in tears all over again as I write this, and I feel like I have a Hammy-sized hole right in the middle of my chest.

I don't know how I am gonna make it without my furry buddy.  I loved Hammy like a brother of sorts; he listened to me and sat on my shoulder, looking up at me as I told him all my problems.  He was a great listener and he never scolded me or told me how dumb I was. 

He was a great friend.

And I shall miss him greatly.

Oh, God, Hammy, WHY??  Why?? Why did you have to die and leave me??  Why couldn't it have been me instead??