Teddy

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• November 5, 2016

Teddy was a hamster.  But Teddy was also a lot more than a mere adorable rodent.  Teddy was a class pet in my third grade class.   Every week, there was a lottery to determine who got to take Teddy home for the weekend.  My family never really had pets growing up.  We never had a dog (which one of my friends claims is why I’m so cold, which I hardheartedly disagree with).  In my adult life, I’ve taken to aquariums and enjoyed having fish.  Growing up, our brief encounters with pets included a turtle that ran away, a rabbit, Sweetie, which my parents gave away to a family who had a lot of rabbits because “Sweetie would be happier with her kind.”  Sweetie fucked like rabbits do at this new home and died from rabbit AIDS which I didn’t know was even a thing.  We also had a lot of feral cats in our neighborhood, and my brother and I once caught two kittens and befriended them and the entire liter (five kittens total).  If you know me, then you know my aversion to cats, mostly because I’m allergic and they eat your face if you die, but I loved those cats, and that’s really the most affection I’ve ever had towards animals.

Despite my Father’s detestation for pets (which I would later inherit), he allowed Teddy, the school hamster, to stay with us for weekends I won the lottery, which my brother, sister and I loved.  We invited our friends over to make mazes, and played all day with the furry little guy.

I won the lottery to take Teddy home for Christmas vacation, which was somewhat of a big deal at that time, because it was the longest time one could have Teddy (with the exception of Summer vacation).  I remember when Ms. DeVito called my name, and I tried to hide the excitement on my face because the other kids in the class looked so disappointed they weren’t picked.  But inside, I was glowing.  Teddy was going to spend Christmas with my family!  What joy!  A Christmas miracle, even!

My siblings were equally jubilant.  My Mother, with her big heart, always loved to see us happy more than anything, and welcomed Teddy to his temporary holiday housing.  My Dad, not thrilled about the new addition, didn’t fuss about it too much (as I recall, anyway), as long as we took care of it.

And we did.  My cousins came over and Teddy was our main source of entertainment.  What a lovable little cutie Teddy was.  But Teddy had a whole other agenda than playing with elementary school kids.

One wintry morning, just days before Christmas, we woke up, and the top of Teddy’s cage was off slightly, and Teddy was gone.  We did find him, eventually.  Under the bed, by the heater.  But the disappearance caused mass panic in my house.  People yelling at each other.  My brother, sister, and I crying, fearing he might hurt or dead.  My mother and father furious, because he might already be dead, and rotting in their house somewhere.  My dad threatened to get the neighbors dog to sniff him out, and eat him.  It’s the only time I ever heard my dad say we should let a dog in our house.  He was serious.  I knew it.

When we put him back in the cage, we then fought about who left the top off.  My younger brother got the blame, as he got the blame for most things (to be fair, most of the of things that went missing or broken were his fault).

That night, I lay in bed awake.  I was still stressed from the trauma of the day.  What if Teddy died?  What if we didn’t find him and he starved to death somewhere?  All alone, and cold.  His blood on my hands.  I was sickened with guilt.  Then, I heard a very faint scratching.  So faint, that had it been windy or raining, I might’ve not heard it at all.  I turned on the light and looked to Teddy’s cage.

He had put enough wood chips in the hamster wheel so it would not turn.  Then he climbed on top of the wheel, and was pushing the mesh metal cage top with his tiny paw.  No one left the cage open after all.  Teddy opened it!

This hamster was a damn genius!  Very impressive, Teddy!  Of course, from then on, we had to put books on top of his cage so it would be too heavy for him to lift.  He might be smart but he’s no body builder.  I shared my woeful story of almost losing Teddy with my teacher, as a cautionary tale for future Teddy caretakers.  “That’s a really smart hamster,” I told Ms. DeVito.

The following year, Teddy died under someone else’s care.  He broke his neck, under the wheel, trying to escape.  It wasn’t the student’s fault.  It was all Teddy.  Apparently he hadn’t put enough wood chips in the wheel and while he was on top of it, the wheel turned, Teddy slipped, and so did his life.  It was declared an accident.

I felt deeply sorry about the loss of my rodent friend, and even more so for the student (who, under unrelated circumstances, became a friend of mine in later years), knowing the sorrow she must have felt.  But now that I was in fourth grade, I was awfully mature and smart.  I thought a lot about Teddy’s death. Teddy was smarter than that.  I’ve seen him, dozens of times, put those wood chips in that wheel, before climbing it.  He tested it with his paw, if it moved, he added some more, and then climbed.  Teddy was a goddamn genius of a hamster, no doubt about it.  The doubt I had, was whether or not it was an accident.

Teddy was clearly dissatisfied with his surroundings, living in a small space, and getting tortured daily by third graders.  If he were a stupid hamster, like most hamsters, he probably would have been perfectly content getting fat and over fed, but Teddy was clever, as far as hamsters and third graders go.   I became suspicious that Teddy found a way to end his dissatisfaction.  No longer was I upset that he died, but rather that I didn’t let him go when I had the chance.  Freedom was all he ever wanted.

After Teddy, I viewed pets differently.  Obedient dogs, lazy cats, they’re the slow ones.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  They are happy.  They make people happy.  The ones that run away, attack and rebel, are the pets we condemn and sometimes put down.  We deem the untrainables the dumb ones, when they are probably the smart ones.  They are dissatisfied with being forced a life of sacrificing the will and need to think and fight for themselves.

It wasn’t until later I made the connection that the same was true for humans.  The untamable, those who do not fit in society, are deemed daft.  But I think now, they may be the only ones who are sane.

RIP Teddy.