She's Here!

Meet Chewie. AKA Sugar. Brown Sugar. BS for short.*

Cute, ain't she?

And a dyed in the wool hamster with urges to chew. Hence, her name.

And, no, for you Star Wars fans out there, she is not being compared to Chewbacca. SHE. Yes, SHE. Has.a.vagina. Not at all like Chewbacca, thank you.

Plus, those crazy, throw my head back and howl sounds he made trying to communicate with Luke and Leia? Nothing like that coming out of OUR Chewie. She's much too civilized, thank you very much.

I seriously fell head-over in the pet shop when I saw her. She was running around the cage, faux organizing all the bedding while the other lazy hamsters had the nerve to sleep in. It was either that her circadian rhythm was all messed up (SCORE for us!) or that she had serious ADHD issues.

In other words: I WAS STARING AT MYSELF IN HAMSTER CLOTHING! I couldn't get her to the counter and bring her home fast enough.

So far, she's been held about 1,257 times. Not one person has been scratched or bitten. She is even fairly happy being picked up and held.

Today, as I was working to get the above picture for your viewing pleasure, I was talking to her with my best MommaJ-talks-to-an-infant voice, sounding like I found an old helium balloon and inhaled deeply, posturing my eyebrows well above their intended position on my face, and smiling as wide as the Mississippi River, saying "How's my Chewie girl? How's my sugar?"

The Babe, rightful owner of Chewie, took one look at his clearly insane Mother and said "Why do you keep calling her MINE?"

Flat busted, ya'll.

For every negative comment, all the dread and worry, I am crazy about this little puff of fur.

And, to finally have another gal in the house? Victory for yours truly.

Of course, since SANTA brought her to our house, everything above, except the helium-infused-conversation, were out of a REALLY REAL FEELING DREAM I had the day before Christmas.

I must have had too many cookies and dozed off for a few moments into this wonderful state of believing I had something to do with picking out this hamster.

WINK, WINK.



*Yes, the last three of those names are mine. I realized the happy coincidence of her shortened name, reserved for times I am REALLY hacked she chewed something up that shouldn't have been, AFTER I named her.