M. Giant's
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Wednesday, February 02, 2011  

Buckyball

We're not as careful as we used to be with Bucky, I have to admit. When we brought him home the first week of July, we were all about protecting him from the cats. If nobody was upstairs, M. Edium's bedroom door had to be closed at all times, just to prevent Phantom and Exie from even thinking about trying anything, even though Bucky was safely locked into his cage. This precaution lasted almost into the third week of July.

But we still maintain common-sense precautions. Even though cats are not still invariably ejected from the room during "Bucky Time," they are at least ejected from the bed. Usually.

And when M. Edium bought Bucky his first exercise ball, Trash made the rule that even with the ball, Bucky and the cats could never be in the same room. Alas, getting to see that was 92% of the reason I got behind getting a hamster and a ball in the first place, but I got over it. Especially when that precaution went the way of all the others, and Bucky was even given the run of our whole top floor. The funny thing about all these rules is that they seem silly when you no longer follow them, especially when there's an exercise ball to protect him. And then you hear this "clunk…clunk clunk cluncluncclunk" noise coming from the stairs and…well, you know. Not our finest hour, that.

Still, Bucky loves his ball. If you remove its lid (a circular hatch that's approximately the relative size of Antarctica) and hold the open ball up to his open cage door, he'll eagerly scramble from one to the other, ready for a roll. Not so much the week or so after that little stairs incident, but he got over that after we got better at blocking the route to the top of the stairs.

Anyway, that's what we did one night last week. It was Wednesday, which for the past year has been the night of his gymnastics class, so we were a little off our rhythm. The three of us (Trash, M. Edium, and I) were busy hanging a model Solar System over his bed, one planet at a time (I regret to inform you that my suggestion to use a box of Nerds as the asteroid belt was vetoed).

So what with getting the little bits of fishing line the right length and poking the tacks, into the sheetrock ceiling, we got distracted from our usual task of listening for the soft rumble of Bucky's ball on the hardwood. If it stops, it means one of two things: 1) he's stuck, wedged between one thing and another thing, or 2) the hatch has come loose and he's wandering around on the floor.

Having failed to notice any of this, I stepped around the dresser to collect Saturn and saw four highly significant yet discrete items, all several inches apart but sharing the same square foot-and-a-half of floor space:

1. Bucky's ball.
2. The lid of Bucky's ball, solus.
3. Bucky.
4. Exie.

"AAAAAAHH!" I said, scooping up Bucky before I'd gotten to the third "A." He went back in his cage as soon as I was able to determine that he was all still there. And boy, did Exie get a lot of praise. It might have confused him a bit. Why are they buttering me up so much? I'm the worst hunter ever!

Anyway, it's obvious we're going to have to make another run to the pet store soon. We need to pick up:

1. A new Buckyball with a tighter lid
2. A dwarf hamster for Exie

posted by M. Giant 7:21 PM 2 comments

2 Comments:

This is all rather amusing in that my friend had a hamster named Bucky, he too had a ball (also called “the Buckyball”), and the poor creature made several trips down the basement stairs.

By Blogger Andy Jukes, at February 2, 2011 at 8:43 PM  

My sister had a buckyball for her gerbil. One night while she was out babysitting and my parents had friends over, they decided to get out the ball as some after-dinner entertainment. The cats were also keenly interested having been heretofore removed from the area when the gerbil was out and about. Unfortunately for my sister, my parents, but especially for my parent's very, very pregnant friend, my parents did not get the door on solidly and the cat pounced and that was nearly the cause for the premature birth of a child in our living room.

The cat, however, was thrilled.

By Blogger Susan, at February 9, 2011 at 10:50 AM  

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