We got Mary a Russian dwarf hamster like the one pictured above for her birthday on the 15th. It's a cute little thing named Lizzie; only about four inches long fully grown. It bit me the first or second day out of fear, and I forgave it. After all, she was in a new place with strangers, right?
Tonight's incident was a little different. She was running around in her little clear plastic ball while Mary cleaned her cage and changed her food and water. Next thing we know, Mary is saying, "Um...Mom...Lizzie got out of her ball...." WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Sure enough, there in the kitchen was an empty, open hamster ball. What to do.
Eric got a flashlight and quickly located the rodent under the stove. We pulled out the drawer under the stove, and there she was, hiding from us. Now, here is where I should have checked online for how to pick up a scared hamster. I SHOULD have gotten some of her food or a treat, put in in my hand, and then gotten her to climb on my hand. Better yet, I should have made Mary do all of that. But no, I had to be dumb and just reach in there and pick her up. She squeaked bloody murder and bit my thumb. HARD. Blood-drawingly hard. Painfully hard.
Lizzie is now back in her cage, and I have a band-aid on my thumb. We live and learn!
