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Summer Breeze Summer Breeze
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Battle of Wills (Jan versus fuzzball)

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She had a friend.

This one is just for FUN. The little dude is gone now, but not forgotten. :)

Have you ever tried to trim a hamster's teeth?


Buddy yawned wide the other day and he had quite the set of chompers on him, so Jan, right up there with Ace Ventura, Pet Detective, decides to trim them for him, as the little sucker only gnaws the wires of his cage and never the little wood bits made for such things. (Contrary ball of fuzz!) So I get him out last night, wrap him in a blankie so his wittle paws don't get in the way (I did all our bunny's teeth this way), and talk to him in a soothing manner while I approach his mouth with the giant implements for clippage.

But did he sit still? No! He squirmed his way out of every hold I had on him, thus living up to his nickname, Houdini. I gave up after a half hour. I'd even wet him down to get a better grip, but he was having none of it. His wittle eyes were bulging out of his wittle head, which is too freaky looking for words. I would catch him in his sleep, a la vampire-staking.

So today I wait until he is good and drowsy, then tip-toe over to the cage and peer in to make sure. But of course he senses me like Radar on Mash and looks up, and then the kettle starts whistling in the kitchen. Darn. So much for the element of surprise. I tell him to wait he is going to go anywhere... and dash to the kitchen to turn my whistle-blower off. Then I walk nonchalantly back--as fast as I can without drawing his attention--and start cooing at him. He let's me pick him up like a lump o' lard. Good, perfect, he's still drowsy. I sit in the chair. Still good. He peers up at me sleepily, mwahaha. And here's where it swirls down the crapper.

I pick up my glasses--which were his first clue--still cooing, and flip him onto his back. He's not in full panic mode yet but he's suspicious; Houdini was no dummy after all, even if he did end up getting himself killed. But then I pick up the pliers and he's all, I know what those are! I'm outta here! and starts squirming for real.

But I am also no dummy (well, not today anyway), I have thought out what I did wrong the night before and clamp down on the sides of his mouth with my fingers.

Now, this is the hard part, 'cause it's hard to clamp down on something that can flatten itself to the approximate thickness of a cheap rug. And keep the fingers of one hand in place while the other is trying to find teeth the size of toothpicks inside a rapidly-closing hole. Noting all the while the eye-bulging and the fragile nature of tiny bones, not to mention the soft yet amazingly strong wittle paws pushing at my hands in desperation. All that doesn't help, it really doesn't. I praised, I cajoled, I begged...

Ah! The last one got through. He stills, and blinks at me. (Read, I'm listening. I'm terrified, but I'm listening.) I explain everything to him: I'm not trying to kill or hurt you in any way. This will help you eat. They will feel more comfortable.

Yeah right. Period of trust over! He commences the squirmfest once more.

Darn. Now I have to go all tough love on his ass. Well, in between the swearing (me) and the squirming (him) and the begging (me again), I finally got it done. One tooth at a time. And it was pure luck, lemme tell ya. I gave him massive amounts of praise and strokes and put him back in the cage with two giant yogurt drop treats. He was very forgiving....I think. Unless I get my throat ripped out in my sleep. I'll let ya know.

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