Hamster Dreams

When I lay to rest I'm haunted by devilish looking hamsters.

Illustration by José-Luis Olivares

We always rented, so we could never have cats or dogs. The landlord said that the coarse animals would scratch up the floors and chew up the rugs.

So we had hamsters. It was as simple as that, like church on Sundays, ice cream after dinner and muting the commercials. Hamsters were our only pet option.

I got my first hamster in middle school. I named him Szhu-Szhu, and in an odd turn of events, there are now toy hamsters called Zhu Zhu Hamsters. I don’t know what that says about the universe, but it says something.

Szhu-Szhu was personable. Fluffy. He had the kindest soul and the gentlest heart. He was a golden-brown, long-haired, teddy-bear hamster. When he walked, his hind legs swiveled back and forth in a way that reminded you of a grown woman on the hunt for a man.

But this was not his intention.

Szhu-Szhu died a sad and emphatic death, one you’d think I’d have remembered.

I don’t, though, because I’ve dreamt a hundred hamster deaths since then. I am pla…