A little funny from the animal saga. If you follow, you will recall that Hank the Tank II a/k/a the Precious had his manhood removed last Tuesday. Jay picked him up on Wednesday. At pick-up, Hank pulled, drug and yanked the vet technician all the way down the hallway. And then he saw Jay...and tackled him. Jay paid, was given instructions to restrict his activity and watch for any redness or swelling. They get outside, Jay opens the door and Hank leaps up and in without hesitation.
When I came through the doors after work that afternoon, Hank attacked, I mean greeted me just like any other day. And the only thing I ever noticed him doing in that region of his body was to lick...which he did anyway, oh, I know, it's nasty...but you know how dogs are. So honestly I forgot all about him even having some sort of surgical procedure.
This past weekend, Lane had his twin friends over and they played and ran and chased each other all over the house and outside in the yard. Hank was jumping up and trying to bite them on the trampoline. He was running all over the place. Never once did he seem to hesitate because of pain or discomfort in the groin area.
Last night (Monday, almost a full week since his snipping) when I got home, I noticed messages on the answering machine. One of them was from the vet clinic. This was the message in a nutshell: "Hi, this is the vet clinic calling to check on Hank and to see how he's doing after his procedure. Call and let us know how he is getting along. Just go ahead and keep his activity restricted until about Friday and then he should be fine."
Oops, she means this Friday, not last Friday...not that either Friday makes a difference. It is Monday, almost a full week since his procedure, there are still four more days until Friday, yikes, and I'm pondering all of this as Hank is attacking Lane and Madolyn in their bedrooms and I can hear the ruckus from my room. I had to laugh. Now that is funny I tell you...of course, then I think about our history, and all the dogs, and all the vet trips, and how I'm sure they feel obligated to check up on the Precious to make sure he's still alive...
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Religion and Jesus
About a month ago, I had seen posts for this video all over Facebook, but I didn't go ahead and watch the video. The other night at youth, my friend "Beth" told me that they had watched this neat video at their girls bible study group and it was so good...so I went in search of it. I must say I liked it and thought I would share the link with you too.
Often Christians get a bad name from people confusing religion with Christianity. It can be hard to separate one from the other at times. There are lots of religious people out there who are very lost and certainly not Christians.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IAhDGYlpqY
Often Christians get a bad name from people confusing religion with Christianity. It can be hard to separate one from the other at times. There are lots of religious people out there who are very lost and certainly not Christians.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IAhDGYlpqY
Monday, February 27, 2012
It is happening...
I am slowly becoming a combination of the Quackdaddy, the Quackmama and my grandma. I can feel it happening. I catch myself saying something and think, oh my goodness, that is sooo what my dad would say, or do something at home and realize it is exactly how my grandma would've done it. I start giving my kids some sort of lecture and stop mid-stream, holy smokes, that sounds like my mom! Aahhh. I swore I would never say that!
I am hoping to trade vehicles sometime this year if it works out. I had been looking at one vehicle similar to the one I have, but now I am thinking that I may just want to get a truck. Yes, we'll have two trucks, but the kids and I are hoping to score a camper this year and with the horse trailer, two trucks may come in very handy. I told Jay that I like sitting up high and having the space to put things in the back if I need to (such as a large dog)...oh my goodness, I am so my grandma. She drove a truck the last 15 years of her life practically. It was hilarious to see her barreling down the road in that truck. She just gave up her driver's license a year or so ago and had driven regularly at age 92...in a truck, sitting up high so she could see.
Last month I went with Jay to one of his ankle follow-up appointments to make sure I was getting correct information about his progress. The doctor had made a few comments about how he did this surgery so Jay would not have to wear a brace forever and so that he could run again, etc. He liked to do a good job and fix things right. And then as he was leaving he told us that, in fact, a professional baseball player was being flown in the very next day for the exact same surgery. I blurted out, "Hey, doc, tell him to call us if he needs any pointers." And immediately looked at Jay and said, "Oh my gosh, that was so my dad, wasn't it?" Yep. YIKES.
I've been running to all these ball games the past couple months and hear my dad or mom yell, and think, gosh, these people are nuts. Then I start yelling, and I realize that I am one of these people. I can't keep my mouth shut any more than they can. I've always heard my dad say, "It's not over yet, people." And just last week when we were down by 15, I was saying the very same thing!
Last week we had a chili cook-off at our church and I baked some cupcakes for it. I went to the closet to get Madolyn's super cool cupcake carrier, I opened it up and lo and behold there was a paper towel. Hhhm, what is this? Oh, yes, I put the paper towel in there to absorb any moisture leftover from the wash/dry process so it doesn't get all stinky...just like my grandma.
Last year during the Mville fair, I can't remember what mission I was on, but I was expected somewhere with something or some kind of answer to a question (ah, memories). I start walking down the midway and get stopped at every step of the way, someone needs this or that, do I know what time the event starts, someone stops me just to chat, etc. An hour later, I am back with whatever I went in search for and the people were laughing because it had taken me so long. I told them I can't go anywhere without being engaged in conversation. "Yes, we know, you're just like your dad." Oh dear, they were right. I did sound just like the Quackdaddy.
I suppose I can't fight it. They are the people that have molded me into who I am and they've turned out okay, for the most part. But when I start rinsing out Ziplock baggies and drying them to reuse, commit me.
I am hoping to trade vehicles sometime this year if it works out. I had been looking at one vehicle similar to the one I have, but now I am thinking that I may just want to get a truck. Yes, we'll have two trucks, but the kids and I are hoping to score a camper this year and with the horse trailer, two trucks may come in very handy. I told Jay that I like sitting up high and having the space to put things in the back if I need to (such as a large dog)...oh my goodness, I am so my grandma. She drove a truck the last 15 years of her life practically. It was hilarious to see her barreling down the road in that truck. She just gave up her driver's license a year or so ago and had driven regularly at age 92...in a truck, sitting up high so she could see.
Last month I went with Jay to one of his ankle follow-up appointments to make sure I was getting correct information about his progress. The doctor had made a few comments about how he did this surgery so Jay would not have to wear a brace forever and so that he could run again, etc. He liked to do a good job and fix things right. And then as he was leaving he told us that, in fact, a professional baseball player was being flown in the very next day for the exact same surgery. I blurted out, "Hey, doc, tell him to call us if he needs any pointers." And immediately looked at Jay and said, "Oh my gosh, that was so my dad, wasn't it?" Yep. YIKES.
I've been running to all these ball games the past couple months and hear my dad or mom yell, and think, gosh, these people are nuts. Then I start yelling, and I realize that I am one of these people. I can't keep my mouth shut any more than they can. I've always heard my dad say, "It's not over yet, people." And just last week when we were down by 15, I was saying the very same thing!
Last week we had a chili cook-off at our church and I baked some cupcakes for it. I went to the closet to get Madolyn's super cool cupcake carrier, I opened it up and lo and behold there was a paper towel. Hhhm, what is this? Oh, yes, I put the paper towel in there to absorb any moisture leftover from the wash/dry process so it doesn't get all stinky...just like my grandma.
Last year during the Mville fair, I can't remember what mission I was on, but I was expected somewhere with something or some kind of answer to a question (ah, memories). I start walking down the midway and get stopped at every step of the way, someone needs this or that, do I know what time the event starts, someone stops me just to chat, etc. An hour later, I am back with whatever I went in search for and the people were laughing because it had taken me so long. I told them I can't go anywhere without being engaged in conversation. "Yes, we know, you're just like your dad." Oh dear, they were right. I did sound just like the Quackdaddy.
I suppose I can't fight it. They are the people that have molded me into who I am and they've turned out okay, for the most part. But when I start rinsing out Ziplock baggies and drying them to reuse, commit me.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The animal saga...
So I guess I better give an update on Frankie, the hamster. I posted a comment to my "Jinx" post to explain, but just in case you didn't know...We found the hamster. I should say, the kids found the hamster. When Lane got home from school the day after Frankie escaped, he went to the basement to play the Wii, of course, and he (or Madolyn) heard a noise and located Frankie underneath the last two steps of the basement stairs.
Lane fetched his father, who was excited to rescue Frankie (I'm only guessing:), and Jay came downstairs. He had to crawl under the stairs and pull out part of a wall. I am told that when Jay reached his arm into the dark small space, Frankie barked or growled at him...but was quickly calmed down when Jay handed him over to the kids.
Lane called me immediately and was soooo excited. He just loves that little creature. He put her back in her cage, she gulped down a bunch of water and crashed. Later when I got home, I got her out to hold her and she just sat in my hands motionless (which never happens). I think she was still in shock or relieved or something...See, there are things worse than living at the Wilhoit Ranch. She was happy to have been rediscovered.
This morning (Friday), Lane got Frankie out and played with her as soon as he got up. As we were getting ready to leave for school/work, I noticed that the cage lid was not on the hamster cage. I said, "Hey, where is Frankie?" Lane tells me that he put her in the cage. I said, "The lid is not on." Again, we go with the whole I-know-I-put-the-lid-on mantra. He tries to tell me that she must have taken it off, which is hilarious, because it is lying neatly beside the cage. He starts to panic (this boy needs to learn to deal with his emotions) and I go in search. A fuzzy ball catches my eye darting along the bottom of the washing machine and I reach down and capture Frankie. She will not miss an opportunity to escape if given the chance! Will we ever learn?
Hank the Tank II apparently has no recollection of his boy parts being removed and/or no pain involved with the same because he has been the same ole rowdy fella since he got home from his procedure. (And he took no part in locating Frankie either time.) Last night Jay cleaned out the fridge and tossed out some leftover chili and a half-eaten roll of deer sausage. The Precious ate it all, so last night while we were trying to sleep, there were lots of soft sounds and unpleasant aromas sifting through the air in our bedroom. What is wrong with me and why do I let these animals dominate my life?
The Quackdaddy ran over his yellow Lab, Ziporah, last week although it was at the hands of our black Lab, Abby, who has taken to barrel-rolling other dogs in an attempt to dominate and control all situations. Dad was turning in his driveway and Abby was trying to bully Zippy (who was, btw, in her own yard) and Abby flattened out Zip just as dad turned. He got her lower leg. Jay helped load her up and dad took her to see our very good friend, the vet. She was treated and released and seems fine, although she does walk with a slight limp. Maybe she now will have some sympathy for the Quackdaddy.
Later on that evening, I saw our friendly vet and his wife, and the first thing out of his mouth was, "What are you people doing down there?" Yes, I know. It's as if we will not stop until all of our dogs have been maimed, injured...or worse.
Lane fetched his father, who was excited to rescue Frankie (I'm only guessing:), and Jay came downstairs. He had to crawl under the stairs and pull out part of a wall. I am told that when Jay reached his arm into the dark small space, Frankie barked or growled at him...but was quickly calmed down when Jay handed him over to the kids.
Lane called me immediately and was soooo excited. He just loves that little creature. He put her back in her cage, she gulped down a bunch of water and crashed. Later when I got home, I got her out to hold her and she just sat in my hands motionless (which never happens). I think she was still in shock or relieved or something...See, there are things worse than living at the Wilhoit Ranch. She was happy to have been rediscovered.
This morning (Friday), Lane got Frankie out and played with her as soon as he got up. As we were getting ready to leave for school/work, I noticed that the cage lid was not on the hamster cage. I said, "Hey, where is Frankie?" Lane tells me that he put her in the cage. I said, "The lid is not on." Again, we go with the whole I-know-I-put-the-lid-on mantra. He tries to tell me that she must have taken it off, which is hilarious, because it is lying neatly beside the cage. He starts to panic (this boy needs to learn to deal with his emotions) and I go in search. A fuzzy ball catches my eye darting along the bottom of the washing machine and I reach down and capture Frankie. She will not miss an opportunity to escape if given the chance! Will we ever learn?
Hank the Tank II apparently has no recollection of his boy parts being removed and/or no pain involved with the same because he has been the same ole rowdy fella since he got home from his procedure. (And he took no part in locating Frankie either time.) Last night Jay cleaned out the fridge and tossed out some leftover chili and a half-eaten roll of deer sausage. The Precious ate it all, so last night while we were trying to sleep, there were lots of soft sounds and unpleasant aromas sifting through the air in our bedroom. What is wrong with me and why do I let these animals dominate my life?
The Quackdaddy ran over his yellow Lab, Ziporah, last week although it was at the hands of our black Lab, Abby, who has taken to barrel-rolling other dogs in an attempt to dominate and control all situations. Dad was turning in his driveway and Abby was trying to bully Zippy (who was, btw, in her own yard) and Abby flattened out Zip just as dad turned. He got her lower leg. Jay helped load her up and dad took her to see our very good friend, the vet. She was treated and released and seems fine, although she does walk with a slight limp. Maybe she now will have some sympathy for the Quackdaddy.
Later on that evening, I saw our friendly vet and his wife, and the first thing out of his mouth was, "What are you people doing down there?" Yes, I know. It's as if we will not stop until all of our dogs have been maimed, injured...or worse.
Friday, February 24, 2012
Plain and ordinary
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)
Sometimes when I hear someone's really good story of redemption or how they came to know Christ, I think, man, how come I don't have a great story...mine is so plain and ordinary. I know that should be a good thing, that I should be thankful that I haven't hit rock bottom from some sort of addiction or life-threatening situation, but sometimes I am a little envious of their story over mine.
I know a lot of times people question what their purpose is in life, what plan God has for them, I think we all have. Sometimes I wonder why He has spared me of some of the awful things that I have watched others go through (some over and over again) and I am brought back to the simple truth that God has a plan for me. As some would say, maybe he just isn't finished with me yet.
Last year at church camp, our speaker for the older Junior High kids was a preacher from one of the churches in our denomination, not too far from where I attend. I really love to hear him speak. First of all, he is just a very likeable guy. He almost always has a smile on his face, he has a good sense of humor and usually has kind words to share. But hearing him tell this story of a very lost young man struggling with drug and alcohol addictions, abuse, broken relationships, etc., and then hearing him say, "That was me" gets me every time. I have heard him tell his story twice, and I always think, wow, God has used this man and his story for such a greater purpose. Then I thank God for the struggles and things he went through because he is now using his past to help others. And then I wonder if I should be thankful for the terrible things he went through??
So that always gets me thinking about what I have to offer someone. You know what I mean. For example, if you were struggling with a drug or alcohol addiction, would you rather be counseled by someone like me who has never had that particular problem, or by someone who has been exactly where you are? By all means, don't give me the life-is-so-much-better-without-those-awful-things-and-how-can-you-do-that-to-your-body lady, give me the person that has lived it. I always wonder if the person that is asking me for advice about something, that I have no personal experience with, really walks away feeling any better from the words I have offered? Or are they thinking, okay, this chic has no clue what it's like to be me and she's just using all those fluffy words and phrases to make me feel better? I don't know.
Those situations always make me feel like such a failure. I know that I can pray about their predicament, I can even pray with them, I can offer them scripture passages that deal with their particular issue, but I still feel so helpless at times. Every now and then I will catch myself wondering if something big is going to happen in my life, good or bad, that God is going to use as my big story to help others. Then I think, STOP IT, I don't want anything bad to happen in my life, how could I even think that?! I don't want to be the one who is desperately fighting to find a cure for an incurable cancer that a loved one has, I don't want to be the one who is speaking out against this sort of abuse or that, I don't want to be the one speaking to a group of teenagers about the dangers of drugs and/or alcohol because it has greatly affected my life.
But they are out there. All over the place. Loved ones who go through these horrible situations and experiences. They survive it most of the time, at least on the outside. Some do use those situations for good, some do not. I will not judge how they respond with it because I simply have no clue.
Maybe this is my story. Maybe this blog is how I will help others. Maybe not. Maybe I will just be a plain and ordinary Christian and trust what God has planned for me. Maybe I should be thankful for that.
Sometimes when I hear someone's really good story of redemption or how they came to know Christ, I think, man, how come I don't have a great story...mine is so plain and ordinary. I know that should be a good thing, that I should be thankful that I haven't hit rock bottom from some sort of addiction or life-threatening situation, but sometimes I am a little envious of their story over mine.
I know a lot of times people question what their purpose is in life, what plan God has for them, I think we all have. Sometimes I wonder why He has spared me of some of the awful things that I have watched others go through (some over and over again) and I am brought back to the simple truth that God has a plan for me. As some would say, maybe he just isn't finished with me yet.
Last year at church camp, our speaker for the older Junior High kids was a preacher from one of the churches in our denomination, not too far from where I attend. I really love to hear him speak. First of all, he is just a very likeable guy. He almost always has a smile on his face, he has a good sense of humor and usually has kind words to share. But hearing him tell this story of a very lost young man struggling with drug and alcohol addictions, abuse, broken relationships, etc., and then hearing him say, "That was me" gets me every time. I have heard him tell his story twice, and I always think, wow, God has used this man and his story for such a greater purpose. Then I thank God for the struggles and things he went through because he is now using his past to help others. And then I wonder if I should be thankful for the terrible things he went through??
So that always gets me thinking about what I have to offer someone. You know what I mean. For example, if you were struggling with a drug or alcohol addiction, would you rather be counseled by someone like me who has never had that particular problem, or by someone who has been exactly where you are? By all means, don't give me the life-is-so-much-better-without-those-awful-things-and-how-can-you-do-that-to-your-body lady, give me the person that has lived it. I always wonder if the person that is asking me for advice about something, that I have no personal experience with, really walks away feeling any better from the words I have offered? Or are they thinking, okay, this chic has no clue what it's like to be me and she's just using all those fluffy words and phrases to make me feel better? I don't know.
Those situations always make me feel like such a failure. I know that I can pray about their predicament, I can even pray with them, I can offer them scripture passages that deal with their particular issue, but I still feel so helpless at times. Every now and then I will catch myself wondering if something big is going to happen in my life, good or bad, that God is going to use as my big story to help others. Then I think, STOP IT, I don't want anything bad to happen in my life, how could I even think that?! I don't want to be the one who is desperately fighting to find a cure for an incurable cancer that a loved one has, I don't want to be the one who is speaking out against this sort of abuse or that, I don't want to be the one speaking to a group of teenagers about the dangers of drugs and/or alcohol because it has greatly affected my life.
But they are out there. All over the place. Loved ones who go through these horrible situations and experiences. They survive it most of the time, at least on the outside. Some do use those situations for good, some do not. I will not judge how they respond with it because I simply have no clue.
Maybe this is my story. Maybe this blog is how I will help others. Maybe not. Maybe I will just be a plain and ordinary Christian and trust what God has planned for me. Maybe I should be thankful for that.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Jinx
Remember how a couple days ago I told you that I had put off telling you about Frankie, the hamster, because I was uncertain of her life span? Well...(now, shush it, you know we can't help it) the other night we left to go to the Regional basketball game around 6:30 p.m., and when we returned, I heard Lane shriek and start crying...then I saw the hamster cage lid lying next to the cage...and the opening to the cage was uncovered.
After the screaming stopped, my first question was, Are you sure Madolyn doesn't have her out already? (Although it would've been in lightening speed.) Lane was hysterical and unable to answer, but Madolyn popped out of her room and said she didn't have her, realized the situation and said she was just sure she had reattached the lid after she had her out playing before we left for the game (putting it on Jay's head as he was sleeping).
Now, you know whenever your child says that they are absolutely sure about something, and then follow it up with "well, at least I am pretty sure," that is just like saying, I have absolutely no idea if I did or not, but I know I should have. Ah-huh.
It was 10:30 when we got home and it was a school night so we told the kids that they would just have to hope and pray that either Frankie would make enough noise we could find her, or she would come out in search of food. What I didn't tell them, but secretly passed on to Jay, was that I had noticed a large tuft of hair on the kitchen floor when I was searching for Frankie. I picked it up and showed it to Jay who believed it was Frankie hair, not Meepie hair. I tracked down the Meep and checked his whiskers, paws and fur for any traces of blood or other hamster debris. I found none. I also noted that Meep kept pacing at the door to his food which made me think he had not just devoured Fat Frankie...and Meepie's normal custom after slaying an animal, would be to drag the carcass, or what remained, around in front of us waiting for some sort of recognition of this great accomplishment...he did not do so.
I kicked Meepie out for the night just to be safe, and Hank the Tank II was spending the night at his home-away-from-home (a/k/a the vet, because he lost his boy parts yesterday) so he would not be a threat to the hamster's life if she was scurrying around. I read my Nook for a bit before trying to go to sleep and then I just listened...hoping to hear the sounds of a small rodent scratching. I did tell Jay that that thing better not end up on my face in the middle of the night...and thankfully, she didn't. There was no sign of her come morning. I let the Meep back in and she didn't seem the least bit aware of the possibility of an unattended rodent on the loose.
Madolyn happened to have a fever in the night and I kept her home today. I left Frankie's food dish out on the floor in hopes she would come in search of food and told Madolyn to keep an eye out for her. Jay went to pick up Hank, and although one might think that a dog who just had his privates cut out might be calm and lethargic, Hank drug the vet tech down the hall, attacked Jay and ran to the truck like he had been in captivity for weeks. I told Jay maybe Hank would feel up to a little tracking later on this afternoon and help us locate the hamster...otherwise, I'm going to be heading to a pet store this weekend. Wouldn't you know I jinxed the poor girl.
After the screaming stopped, my first question was, Are you sure Madolyn doesn't have her out already? (Although it would've been in lightening speed.) Lane was hysterical and unable to answer, but Madolyn popped out of her room and said she didn't have her, realized the situation and said she was just sure she had reattached the lid after she had her out playing before we left for the game (putting it on Jay's head as he was sleeping).
Now, you know whenever your child says that they are absolutely sure about something, and then follow it up with "well, at least I am pretty sure," that is just like saying, I have absolutely no idea if I did or not, but I know I should have. Ah-huh.
It was 10:30 when we got home and it was a school night so we told the kids that they would just have to hope and pray that either Frankie would make enough noise we could find her, or she would come out in search of food. What I didn't tell them, but secretly passed on to Jay, was that I had noticed a large tuft of hair on the kitchen floor when I was searching for Frankie. I picked it up and showed it to Jay who believed it was Frankie hair, not Meepie hair. I tracked down the Meep and checked his whiskers, paws and fur for any traces of blood or other hamster debris. I found none. I also noted that Meep kept pacing at the door to his food which made me think he had not just devoured Fat Frankie...and Meepie's normal custom after slaying an animal, would be to drag the carcass, or what remained, around in front of us waiting for some sort of recognition of this great accomplishment...he did not do so.
I kicked Meepie out for the night just to be safe, and Hank the Tank II was spending the night at his home-away-from-home (a/k/a the vet, because he lost his boy parts yesterday) so he would not be a threat to the hamster's life if she was scurrying around. I read my Nook for a bit before trying to go to sleep and then I just listened...hoping to hear the sounds of a small rodent scratching. I did tell Jay that that thing better not end up on my face in the middle of the night...and thankfully, she didn't. There was no sign of her come morning. I let the Meep back in and she didn't seem the least bit aware of the possibility of an unattended rodent on the loose.
Madolyn happened to have a fever in the night and I kept her home today. I left Frankie's food dish out on the floor in hopes she would come in search of food and told Madolyn to keep an eye out for her. Jay went to pick up Hank, and although one might think that a dog who just had his privates cut out might be calm and lethargic, Hank drug the vet tech down the hall, attacked Jay and ran to the truck like he had been in captivity for weeks. I told Jay maybe Hank would feel up to a little tracking later on this afternoon and help us locate the hamster...otherwise, I'm going to be heading to a pet store this weekend. Wouldn't you know I jinxed the poor girl.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Frankie
I have been somewhat reluctant to post about our newest addition but here goes. A friend of mine posted on Facebook that her son was moving away and she was left with a hamster. I teased her by saying that Lane was just dying for one and if they got sick of it, to send it over. It wasn't an hour or two before I received a text asking if I was serious because she would gladly give it to us.
Lane has been asking for a hamster for a couple months now. Jay and I had some in high school as science projects. They stayed at his house and we didn't keep them too long. I had a guinea pig for a couple years in college and loved that little guy, Floyd. He was so sweet. In my favorite books, the ones I wrote about a few weeks ago, the main character has a hamster named Rex. I just told Jay a few weeks ago, as I was reading books 17 & 18, that I kind of wanted a hamster. Jay was not for this acquisition, but I vetoed and brought home Frankie, the hamster. Lane was tickled to death.
As I was leaving my friend's house, she added that she wasn't exactly sure how old Frankie was, but she knew that before her son had her, it was her nephew's and they had had her for a couple years. My mind was churning...hhm, wonder what a hamster's life span is?
So I did what anyone would do, I googled it. Ha, the average life span is two-three years, possibly as long as five years in perfect conditions. Yeah, right. When you factor in the risks of living at the Wilhoit Ranch, a life span of two-three years is easily decreased and we think Frankie is already two to three years old. I was also told that her hair color "used to be red" and now it is a faint tan or light gray. I see how this is going to go down.
From the get-go, I have told the kids the average life span of a hamster, how we are unsure exactly how old little Frankie is, but we know she has to be about two to three years old, and that if something happens to her, we will get a new one. I constantly remind them to be gentle with her because she is elderly.
For Valentine's Day, I bought Lane a hamster ball for Frankie to run around in (and oh, how she loves to run in it). Jay happened to mention to Lane that the exercise could be good for Frankie's health and she may live longer. Great. Lane has told me that now at least three times.
Oddly enough, Hank the Tank II and Meepie, the soul survivor, don't seem all that interested in little Frankie. Hank can't seem to get the ball in his mouth, and I'm guessing that Meepie finds her such easy prey, she doesn't see the need to bother with her. We have only lost Frankie once, after she escaped from a poorly latched ball, and we have remembered to feed and water her.
I was afraid the new environment a/k/a shock of our household would do her in quickly. Every morning, I check and make sure Frankie is breathing...so far so good, but we know it's just a matter of time.
Lane has been asking for a hamster for a couple months now. Jay and I had some in high school as science projects. They stayed at his house and we didn't keep them too long. I had a guinea pig for a couple years in college and loved that little guy, Floyd. He was so sweet. In my favorite books, the ones I wrote about a few weeks ago, the main character has a hamster named Rex. I just told Jay a few weeks ago, as I was reading books 17 & 18, that I kind of wanted a hamster. Jay was not for this acquisition, but I vetoed and brought home Frankie, the hamster. Lane was tickled to death.
As I was leaving my friend's house, she added that she wasn't exactly sure how old Frankie was, but she knew that before her son had her, it was her nephew's and they had had her for a couple years. My mind was churning...hhm, wonder what a hamster's life span is?
So I did what anyone would do, I googled it. Ha, the average life span is two-three years, possibly as long as five years in perfect conditions. Yeah, right. When you factor in the risks of living at the Wilhoit Ranch, a life span of two-three years is easily decreased and we think Frankie is already two to three years old. I was also told that her hair color "used to be red" and now it is a faint tan or light gray. I see how this is going to go down.
From the get-go, I have told the kids the average life span of a hamster, how we are unsure exactly how old little Frankie is, but we know she has to be about two to three years old, and that if something happens to her, we will get a new one. I constantly remind them to be gentle with her because she is elderly.
For Valentine's Day, I bought Lane a hamster ball for Frankie to run around in (and oh, how she loves to run in it). Jay happened to mention to Lane that the exercise could be good for Frankie's health and she may live longer. Great. Lane has told me that now at least three times.
Oddly enough, Hank the Tank II and Meepie, the soul survivor, don't seem all that interested in little Frankie. Hank can't seem to get the ball in his mouth, and I'm guessing that Meepie finds her such easy prey, she doesn't see the need to bother with her. We have only lost Frankie once, after she escaped from a poorly latched ball, and we have remembered to feed and water her.
I was afraid the new environment a/k/a shock of our household would do her in quickly. Every morning, I check and make sure Frankie is breathing...so far so good, but we know it's just a matter of time.
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