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A bit long but quite good!
Story's Overview: I had to take my son's hamster to the vet. Here's
what happened: just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me
there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds
prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told
me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him
into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his
back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I
called, "come look at the hamster!"
"Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having
babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we
didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she
inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my
most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she
informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on.
I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to
be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the
miracle of birth."
"OH, Gross!", they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great!; what are we going to do with a
litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I
really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a
tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We
don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when
it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried
several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 999?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they
could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the
females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet
with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe,"
he urged.
"I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women
can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is
one thing, but this was a child born of her womb--her own flesh and
blood.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the
little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a c-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I
speak to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son
to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This hamster is not in labour.
In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy."
"What!?"
"You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come
into maturity, like most male species, they um.... er....
masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed,
glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just...just...excited?" my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.
Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then
even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the
woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness. Tears were now running down her face.
"It's just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny
little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the hamsters and
our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be
okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad" he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing into laughter.
Story's Overview: I had to take my son's hamster to the vet. Here's
what happened: just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me
there was "something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds
prisoner in his room. "He's just lying there looking sick," he told
me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him
into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his
back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do. "Honey," I
called, "come look at the hamster!"
"Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having
babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we
didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she
inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my
most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she
informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on.
I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it. "Kids, this is going to
be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witness the
miracle of birth."
"OH, Gross!", they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great!; what are we going to do with a
litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I
really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a
tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later. "We
don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when
it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried
several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 999?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they
could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the
females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet
with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe,"
he urged.
"I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women
can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is
one thing, but this was a child born of her womb--her own flesh and
blood.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the
little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a c-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I
speak to you privately for a moment?" I gulped, nodding for my son
to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This hamster is not in labour.
In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy."
"What!?"
"You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come
into maturity, like most male species, they um.... er....
masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed,
glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just...just...excited?" my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.
Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then
even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the
woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness. Tears were now running down her face.
"It's just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny
little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the hamsters and
our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be
okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad" he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing into laughter.
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