The Fox that Ate Our Hamster
When they came to the grave, the stone had been rolled away.
The grave was empty.
Or the hamster we just buried!?
”He’s risen!” came a voice from the kitchen.
Then floods of tears from outside.
The stone is gone!
The fox has eaten her!”
Miss 7’s cheeks wet with tears.
To round off our Easter dinner Miss 7 had taken her friend, her coat and her sweets outside to visit the grave of the hamster we buried only days ago.
It’s the first time she’s been out there.
It was important for her.
Part of her story.
I’m not sure that Mr M’s attempts to explain how our little hamster had now become part of a bigger story, a foxes story, were the comforting words she wanted to hear.
Nor the timing of her cousins happy dance on the porch as she sung away to her favorite song.
But she was oblivious of it all.
The box she’d buried her hamster in was empty.
Ripped to shreds.
Not quite closure.
Is it normal for dead pets to be dug up and eaten?
Didn’t we bury her deep enough?
Are you supposed to think about that?
And a shaking hand holding the remains of what was a beautiful box.
And muffled laughter.
Getting over the resurrection comment wasn’t as easy for everyone.