The Hamster-Personal Narrative

"Is it dead? What happened!" I said as I rolled my sister's hamster around in it's

little cage. It was a Sunday evening when I said these words, I was all alone, and I was

very confused. I didn't know what I was going to do at that point. The only person who

I could talk to and help me out in this situation was a friend that I had been talking to for a

few minutes. My friend also did not know what I should do. I poked the poor creature

several times to see if it still had any life left in it. Instead of waking up and moving about

its cage, the hamster lay there motionless, like a little stuffed animal. I sat there in the

living room, talking on the phone, and examining the hamster's cage. My little sister's

hamster had died while it
Both of

my sisters went to my grandparents' house, so I had the whole house to myself. I even

had some company: my sister's hamster. I was the hamster's sole caretaker. Without

me, it would starve, die of thirst, or somehow find a way to escape the confines of its little

cage and wreak havoc throughout my parents' house. Because I've never taken care of a

hamster before, my sister had to tell me how I was to take care of her hamster. I was to

feed it, make sure there was plenty of water, play with it, and give it some exercise by

putting it inside of a plastic ball and let it run around inside of it for exercise Simple, or so

I thought...

The first day went smoothly, and the hamster was doing its hamster thing: eating,

drinking, and running like crazy inside of its hamster wheel. At certain times of the day I

would put the hamster in the little plastic ball so that it could run around freely. While
After a tasty bowl of Trix, I headed over to the hamster cage. As I peered inside, I

noticed that the hamster wasn't moving. I observed the hamster for a few minutes, and

then I decided that the hamster was asleep. I put some food in the cage, checked the

water, and went about my business until it was time for me to go to sleep.

On the third and last day of my freedom from my family, I did what I usually

would do on the previous two days: I got up, ate breakfast, and walked to the hamster

cage. As I observed the hamster again, using my great powers of deduction, I found the

truth: The hamster was dead. At first I didn't believe it. I began to go into a small state

of panic. There were questions running through my mind that I could not answer at that

specific moment in time. "Is it dead?" "What will my sister say?" "Will my sister ever

trust me?" I was scared. I didn't know why I was scared, or how I was going to deal

with my sister in the immediate future. The worst of my hamster experience happened

very quickly after I discovered the dead hamster. The phone call. Uh oh...

Shortly after the hamster's death, my mom called, and asked me how