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Abstract

again. I asked her what she did with Hammy’s body.“Oh … the garbage,” she said nonchalantly.Horrified, I hung up on her. “How heartless!” I thought to myself. I couldn’t bring myself to so coldly toss Hashbrown into the garbage!I wanted a funeral for Hashbrown. A proper funeral to acknowledge the little ball of fur that was a pseudo-replacement for the dog I actually wanted.The only problem was that we were living in rural, northern Canada at the time. And Hashbrown passed away in the winter.Which, for those geographically challenged people that haven’t put it together yet, meant that it was approximately -30 C out and we had four feet of snow in our very frozen backyard.So, like any rational, logical person, I settled on the only option I could think of. I wanted to freeze Hashbrown in our deep freezer till it was warm enough to dig him a grave, and then we could give him the funeral he deserved.Hashbrown loved the mason jar he usually slept in, so I wanted to bury him in there. I had it all planned out and was quite insistent on this sentimental touch.The only problem was that Hashbrown didn’t choose the mason jar as his final resting place. And I hadn’t foreseen the rigor mortis.Have you ever tried stuffing a dead hamster, stiff with rigor mortis, into the mouth of a mason jar?If you’re thinking there are so many things wrong with that mental picture, let me tell you — there are so many things wrong with actually doing it.And yet, after multiple not-so-graceful tries and many unsuccessful attempts to convince my husband to do it, I succeeded.Let me pause for a

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second and let the world know that I took precautions.It wasn’t like every time I went into the freezer for a pack of frozen ground beef, I’d wave to the poor little frozen body of Hashbrown.No, no, I’m not a psychopath.By the time Hashbrown was ready for freezing, he was soundly in his mason jar, which we had put into multiple Ziploc bags, and then further wrapped with multiple layers of paper.The plastic for impermeable protection. The paper so we couldn’t see into the mason jar.Hashbrown also got his own separate section of the deep freezer, by himself and fully away from all our food. Not that I would ever accidentally serve up “hamster a la king” for dinner.Perhaps the weirdest thing of all is that I didn’t actually think this was that weird when going through it? And my husband, bless his heart, fully went along with my plan!Sure, I got lots of weird looks when I explained the situation to my friends. And yet, not one of them to this day has proposed a better solution, given the circumstances of our Canadian winter, other than to toss poor Mr. Hashbrown into the garbage.For the record, if Hashbrown had chosen to pass away at a more convenient time, we would have happily proceeded straight to his funeral. But sometimes, life doesn’t work out that way.I’m happy to share that once the ground thawed, Hashbrown did receive the funeral he deserved. We were also thoughtful enough to fence his grave off so that when we did get our puppy, there would be no opportunity for the two of them to meet.Hashbrown, may you rest in peace in hamster heaven and know that your memory lives on.</article></body>

HUMOR

Apparently, It’s Not Kosher to Freeze Your Dead Hamster

First off, let me say that I loved my hamster

First off, let me say that I loved my hamster, Hashbrown, and he lived a good life till the ripe old age of two.

I adopted him (that’s the language in our pet store contract, believe it or not) in my mid-twenties when my husband wouldn’t let me get a dog. This means that lucky Hashbrown was never exposed to the trauma or abuse that many other unfortunate hamsters have to endure when passed into the hands of eager eight-year-olds.

But one night, I realized he’d consistently been in the same corner of his cage for the last three nights. Hm … with one quick poke, I knew that poor little Hashbrown was no longer with us.

I grabbed my husband and together, the two of us stood forlornly in front of Hashbrown and his cage. We had a moment of silence.

Then we realized that we were the adults now that had to deal with the body.

I immediately had flashbacks of when I was eight and my first hamster, Hammy passed away … and my parents suspiciously making him just disappear.

I called my mom, wishing she lived in the same city as us so she could be “the adult” again. I asked her what she did with Hammy’s body.

“Oh … the garbage,” she said nonchalantly.

Horrified, I hung up on her. “How heartless!” I thought to myself. I couldn’t bring myself to so coldly toss Hashbrown into the garbage!

I wanted a funeral for Hashbrown. A proper funeral to acknowledge the little ball of fur that was a pseudo-replacement for the dog I actually wanted.

The only problem was that we were living in rural, northern Canada at the time. And Hashbrown passed away in the winter.

Which, for those geographically challenged people that haven’t put it together yet, meant that it was approximately -30 C out and we had four feet of snow in our very frozen backyard.

So, like any rational, logical person, I settled on the only option I could think of. I wanted to freeze Hashbrown in our deep freezer till it was warm enough to dig him a grave, and then we could give him the funeral he deserved.

Hashbrown loved the mason jar he usually slept in, so I wanted to bury him in there. I had it all planned out and was quite insistent on this sentimental touch.

The only problem was that Hashbrown didn’t choose the mason jar as his final resting place. And I hadn’t foreseen the rigor mortis.

Have you ever tried stuffing a dead hamster, stiff with rigor mortis, into the mouth of a mason jar?

If you’re thinking there are so many things wrong with that mental picture, let me tell you — there are so many things wrong with actually doing it.

And yet, after multiple not-so-graceful tries and many unsuccessful attempts to convince my husband to do it, I succeeded.

Let me pause for a second and let the world know that I took precautions.

It wasn’t like every time I went into the freezer for a pack of frozen ground beef, I’d wave to the poor little frozen body of Hashbrown.

No, no, I’m not a psychopath.

By the time Hashbrown was ready for freezing, he was soundly in his mason jar, which we had put into multiple Ziploc bags, and then further wrapped with multiple layers of paper.

The plastic for impermeable protection. The paper so we couldn’t see into the mason jar.

Hashbrown also got his own separate section of the deep freezer, by himself and fully away from all our food. Not that I would ever accidentally serve up “hamster a la king” for dinner.

Perhaps the weirdest thing of all is that I didn’t actually think this was that weird when going through it? And my husband, bless his heart, fully went along with my plan!

Sure, I got lots of weird looks when I explained the situation to my friends. And yet, not one of them to this day has proposed a better solution, given the circumstances of our Canadian winter, other than to toss poor Mr. Hashbrown into the garbage.

For the record, if Hashbrown had chosen to pass away at a more convenient time, we would have happily proceeded straight to his funeral. But sometimes, life doesn’t work out that way.

I’m happy to share that once the ground thawed, Hashbrown did receive the funeral he deserved. We were also thoughtful enough to fence his grave off so that when we did get our puppy, there would be no opportunity for the two of them to meet.

Hashbrown, may you rest in peace in hamster heaven and know that your memory lives on.