Sometimes being a 20-something means being nostalgic. Being nostalgic for me is remembering stories about one of my favorite people in this world, my father. Let me paint a picture of my father for you. He stands just barely 5'5" and has always worn a huge mustache that at one point he curled into handle bars with wax. He has thick, salt and pepper, wavy hair that he wears brushed back and dark brown eyes which always convey some type of mischief. Above his eyes are some of the thickest arched eyebrows I've ever seen (besides my own). If you put his head on a Christmas Elf's body- he could get a job in the north pole, no problem. He walks with a slight limp, caused by one leg being slightly shorter than the other, and speaks with a fairly thick Cuban accent. He's pretty eccentric. On occasion, he has been known to wear all white (including shoes) and a hot pink yamaka. He pulls it off, very well.
When my sister and I were girls, we were like many other children and owned a hamster. He wasn't like most other hamsters because my sister was able to acquire him when he was a baby because one of her fellow classmates had just had a litter. He soon became a member of our family and of course one of my father's closest companions. My father would often take Al out of his cage, place him in the front pocket of his shirt, and keep him there for hours on end. In turn, Al loved it and didn't seem to want to leave. This however, only applied to my father's pocket. As soon as Al was placed in his cage and it was passed midnight and everyone was asleep, he transformed from a tiny hamster into Houdini. He was the most brilliant escape artist anyone in our family had ever seen. His first escape was a short one. Everyone had gone to bed and it was about 1am when my sister was awoken by something she thought she saw. She swore that a small red streak had gone across her floor. She thought nothing of it and put her head down when, again, the red streak! She waited...and just at the right moment she turned on her bedside light and there was Al, frozen in place like a convict caught by a spotlight. On his second escape he was gone for two days until one afternoon I heard something that resembled scratching. I looked in my closet and it seemed that my guitar was making noises. On closer inspection, there was Al, curled up in the base, making his new home in my musical instrument.
By Al's third disappearance my sister and I were sure that he was lost forever. There were tears and drama, our beloved Al was gone forever. My father seemed incredibly positive, smug even. He kept saying to us over and over, "Don't worry, I will find Al, he is sleeping now during the day but at night I will find him." Yeah right! How is my father, the man who can't even find the remote control when it's right in front of him, going to find a teeny tiny hamster in a four bedroom house?! It was an impossible feat. It wasn't going to happen. Furthermore, we didn't understand the point of our father taunting us with something we knew was impossible.
My sister and I finally gave up our search and retired to the couch and watched TV. Around nine o' clock my father came out, limp and all, opened the fridge and cut a piece of cheddar cheese (we're Canadians and cheese addicts). He then stands in front of the TV and exclaims, "come now, you will see, I will find Al!" Even though we were sure my father was full of it, we were still intrigued. So we stood up, griped about his crazy antics, and followed him into the hallway. He then started to say, in his sweet sing-song voice, Cuban mumble and all, "Al I haaaave soooome cheeeeese for youuuuuuu!" You can just imagine my sister and me then! We were going nuts! Please, really, this is your genius plan to get the hamster? You're going to hold up cheese and yell his name? My father had gone clinically insane. This was going to end with us convincing our mother to commit him, not with the retrieval of our pet. It's a hamster! Hamsters probably don't even know their names nevertheless come when they're called. Who did he think he was...? Then it happened. The hamster came straight out of my sister's bedroom. Sat right at my father's feet. My father scooped him up, put him in his pocket, and gave him the piece of cheese and looked at us, "I told you. I find him." My sister and I were speechless. He actually did find the hamster. Later we decided that he must have been training him in secret, even so, we never doubted my father again... or at least not for a few months anyway.
When my sister and I were girls, we were like many other children and owned a hamster. He wasn't like most other hamsters because my sister was able to acquire him when he was a baby because one of her fellow classmates had just had a litter. He soon became a member of our family and of course one of my father's closest companions. My father would often take Al out of his cage, place him in the front pocket of his shirt, and keep him there for hours on end. In turn, Al loved it and didn't seem to want to leave. This however, only applied to my father's pocket. As soon as Al was placed in his cage and it was passed midnight and everyone was asleep, he transformed from a tiny hamster into Houdini. He was the most brilliant escape artist anyone in our family had ever seen. His first escape was a short one. Everyone had gone to bed and it was about 1am when my sister was awoken by something she thought she saw. She swore that a small red streak had gone across her floor. She thought nothing of it and put her head down when, again, the red streak! She waited...and just at the right moment she turned on her bedside light and there was Al, frozen in place like a convict caught by a spotlight. On his second escape he was gone for two days until one afternoon I heard something that resembled scratching. I looked in my closet and it seemed that my guitar was making noises. On closer inspection, there was Al, curled up in the base, making his new home in my musical instrument.
By Al's third disappearance my sister and I were sure that he was lost forever. There were tears and drama, our beloved Al was gone forever. My father seemed incredibly positive, smug even. He kept saying to us over and over, "Don't worry, I will find Al, he is sleeping now during the day but at night I will find him." Yeah right! How is my father, the man who can't even find the remote control when it's right in front of him, going to find a teeny tiny hamster in a four bedroom house?! It was an impossible feat. It wasn't going to happen. Furthermore, we didn't understand the point of our father taunting us with something we knew was impossible.
My sister and I finally gave up our search and retired to the couch and watched TV. Around nine o' clock my father came out, limp and all, opened the fridge and cut a piece of cheddar cheese (we're Canadians and cheese addicts). He then stands in front of the TV and exclaims, "come now, you will see, I will find Al!" Even though we were sure my father was full of it, we were still intrigued. So we stood up, griped about his crazy antics, and followed him into the hallway. He then started to say, in his sweet sing-song voice, Cuban mumble and all, "Al I haaaave soooome cheeeeese for youuuuuuu!" You can just imagine my sister and me then! We were going nuts! Please, really, this is your genius plan to get the hamster? You're going to hold up cheese and yell his name? My father had gone clinically insane. This was going to end with us convincing our mother to commit him, not with the retrieval of our pet. It's a hamster! Hamsters probably don't even know their names nevertheless come when they're called. Who did he think he was...? Then it happened. The hamster came straight out of my sister's bedroom. Sat right at my father's feet. My father scooped him up, put him in his pocket, and gave him the piece of cheese and looked at us, "I told you. I find him." My sister and I were speechless. He actually did find the hamster. Later we decided that he must have been training him in secret, even so, we never doubted my father again... or at least not for a few months anyway.
I still miss that hamster, he was wonderful and makes me want more little hammies to brighten my evenings!
ReplyDeleteHaha great story. I had hamsters when I was a kid. One time, I got two boy hamsters and they had 9 babies...so we had 11 hamsters. Lots of escape artists. There are probably a million of them all over my house/basement now, they might've been eaten by squirrels though...the world may never know.
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