A Death in the Family
I weep for David–he is dead!
O, weep for David! Though our tears
Thaw not the frost that binds so dear a Hamster’s head.
Brendan’s hamster, David, died today. Brendan has been home sick with strep, so there was really no way around telling him, even if I wanted to keep it from him.
This morning, he asked me if he could pet his hamster, so I opened the cover to David’s home. His little pink foot was sticking out of his hut door. Before lifting the hut off him, I touched him lightly to wake him. He didn’t move.
“He’s sleeping,” I said.
I lifted the hut off him. He looked rather stiff.
“Um…”
“Can I pet him?” Brendan asked.
“Um…just a minute.”
I touched him. His fur was cold. I couldn’t discern any movement.
“He must be really sleeping!” Brendan said. “Here, let me pet him.”
“Uh, no, let’s just let him sleep. For now.”
I needed some time to think. Later, after lunch, I took Brendan into his bedroom and said, “Brendan, I’ve got something sad to tell you. Your hamster has died.”
“No, he’s just sleeping.”
“No, I don’t think so, Brendan.”
I showed him how the hamster wasn’t moving.
“Can I touch him?”
“No, better not,” I said. Why do we become so repulsed by a corpse that was, not long ago, living, breathing, warm with life?
We talked about it for awhile. Since Brendan was old enough to experience my grandmother’s death, this is quite a bit less tragic for him, and he seems to be rather non-chalant about it. Maybe even too much so.
“What are we going to do with him?” He asked.
“I suppose we’ll have to bury him.”
“Can’t we let kitty cat eat him? She’d like that.”
“Um, no. That’s disgusting. It would make kitty sick.”
“No it wouldn’t. You said cats like to eat hamsters.”
“Yeah, but this is David, not just any hamster. We will have to bury him.”
As of yet, we haven’t done so. We are waiting for mom to come home so we can all pay our last respects.
He will awake no more, Oh! Nevermore!
O weep for David Hamster for he is dead!
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Did you guys bury the hamster? How was Brendan during it, if you did?
Comment by Heather — Monday, 11 December 2006 @ 6:43 am
We decided to feed it to the cat after all.
Just kidding…Brendan was fine. He took some flowers from a vase on the kitchen table and put them over its grave. So far, he hasn’t asked for another one, which is a bit of a relief for us. The darned things don’t have a very long life, and I don’t want to deal with another pet death anytime soon. Honestly, I think the person who gave it to us must have lied about its age, or not known how old it was. We only had it since October, and we were told it was only a few months old when we got it.
Comment by Matthew — Monday, 11 December 2006 @ 10:41 am
Kids deal with death in unexpected ways, I guess. I know I shouldn’t find it funny when he asked if he could feed it to the cat. Because it’s not funny. But it’s a funny kid reaction.
I’m glad he seemed to take it well, though.
When my stepmom’s rabbits died, my stepbrother, when he was much younger, put on a really big show for his mom. I came home, and the first thing he said was, the rabbits died. In a normal tone of voice like he was talking about the weather. When his mom walked into the room, he started sobbing about the rabbits. Complete manipulation.
When it got out of control, I called him out on it. I don’t think his mom believed me, though.
Comment by Mel B. — Monday, 11 December 2006 @ 12:54 pm
I’ve never handled pet deaths well, so Brendan’s response is, well, kind of funny, especially the bit about the cat. He seems to have a certain understanding of the whole circle of life thing, and the whole cats-eat-hamsters thing.
Can’t remember the first pet that died, but I remember certain instances of pets dying when I was a bit older. Like when I was in high school and discovered Dusty’s kittens hadn’t made it. Somehow I thought I could pray the last one back to life. Named it Lazarus and brought it into the house on a paper plate. Prayed for it, then went up to my room and cried a long time until I fell asleep and my mom came home to ask why there was a dead cat on a paper plate on the kitchen table. Didn’t tell her I’d tried to resurrect it…seemed silly even to me at that point.
Comment by Dawn — Thursday, 14 December 2006 @ 1:58 pm
I never dealt well with pet deaths, either. I probabl dealt better with the few human deaths I experienced. My first or second year of college, my Mom had my dog euthanized due to various incurable ailments that were making him miserable. I’d had the dog since I was a small child, and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to cope with. Making it worse, Mom didn’t tell me that she was going to do it. I came home from classes one day to find the dog gone. I went over to my Grandma’s house, one street over, thinking he might have gone over there while we were all gone. My Grandma was the one who told me that he had been euthanized; she looked shocked that Mom didn’t tell me what she was going to do. I hated Mom for quite awhile, for that–as much for not telling me she was going to do it as actually doing the deed.
Comment by Matthew — Thursday, 14 December 2006 @ 2:20 pm
That is rough…pets were never exactly valued enough when I was growing up to deserve euthanasia (OK, my dad shot a couple cats that had been hit by cars to put them out of their misery, but it’s not quite the same). To not be able to say goodbye to a pet that’s going to die, and to not even know…Your mom may have mistakenly thought that would somehow be easier on you to not tell, but understandably, it had to feel like a betrayal of sorts.
Comment by Dawn — Thursday, 14 December 2006 @ 10:35 pm