1 of 3 Stories about an Animal Dying.

1 OF 3 STORIES ABOUT ANIMALS DYING.

One of my earliest memories was an act of cannibalism between two hamsters.  

When I was six, my parents bought my brother and I one hamster each. We named them Romeo and Juliet. We allowed the hamsters to live in the same cage together because premarital sex was banned in our house. We’d assumed the hamsters would respect this rule. We were wrong.

Three weeks after opening up our house to the hamsters, we came downstairs to find that we no longer owned two hamsters. We now owned twenty-two hamsters. Two of them being the original Romeo and Juliet, and the other twenty being pink, transparent, beady-eyed products of a blasphemous sex act. My brother, my parents and I gathered around the cage. We stared at the new babies in awe and genuine amazement. This was the first experience to teach me what it meant to be born into this world. My mother broke the silence and yelled to my father, “BART. TELL THE KIDS TO GO UPSTAIRS!” But it was too late.

The Romeo leapt onto one of his children, held it up to the light with its tiny paws, and in one bloody tearing motion, ripped the hamsters head off. Writing this now, in a strange way, it makes me think of the time I lost my virginity.

The father must of tore some sort of artery because, you know, he bit the baby’s whole fucking head off. Blood began spraying everywhere. The father wasn’t satisfied. To him, that baby was only an appetizer. Systematically, he moved from baby to baby, tearing through them with the same teeth I had once regarded as cute.

The spinning wheel had turned from fun exercise toy, to a place for Romeo to toss dead baby carcasses. It was a massacre. My mom ushered my brother and I upstairs. We were unconsolable. That was the last I ever saw of the hamsters. Sometimes I wonder if Romeo is still out there, bloodthirsty as ever, seeking revenge on the family who put him out on the streets of Rotterdam NY.