Huey the Hamster

Huey the Hamster


“Mommy, Huey’s not moving! Look!” cried Lilly.
I said, “Oh, Lilly, I’m so sorry. Huey’s dead.”
“I’m sad, Mommy.”
“Me too, honey,” I said, “Let’s bury poor Huey.”

I got my gardening gloves and potting shovel, put Huey in a shoe box, and we took him out to bury him in the soft earth under the maple tree. I started digging and hit something.

“Mommy, what’s that?”
It was another shoe box. I said, “That’s Whiskers. She was a good kitty.”
“I don’t remember Whiskers, Mommy.”
I said, “Whiskers slept on your bed every night, honey. She loved you.”
“I’m sad, Mommy.”
“Me too, Lilly.”

I started to dig another hole and hit something else.

“What’s that Mommy?”
“That’s Scruffy, our old dog.”
“But Mommy, I don’t remember Scruffy.”
“Scruffy slept by the front door to protect us. He was a good dog, honey.”
Lilly said, “I’m sad, Mommy.”
I said, “Me too, Lilly.”

I started to dig again and hit something bigger.

Lilly said, “I’m sad, Mommy. I don’t remember Daddy.”