Hay's hamster died last night. I was holding him up until the very end because I didn't want him to feel alone. We had a vet appointment for today at 11, but apparently he couldn't hold on that long. We don't know what was wrong with him, just that he started eating less and less and wasn't drinking very much, and then yesterday we noticed he was wobbling a little when he walked. That's when we made the appointment, but we were too late. He went downhill fast.
This was the coolest hamster ever. If you put your finger in his cage, he would "bite" on it and act like he was trying to pull you back down with him. All four of his legs would flail and he would almost roll over on his back, hanging onto your finger the whole time. He was just a sweetie. Now he's gone.
Why am I taking this so hard? I've been crying since last night, and every time I think about him, or Hay, I start crying again. Maybe it's because he did the same things my father did when he passed away? I don't know. But even though it was her hammie, I loved that thing too. I always went into her room when she was sleeping or gone and I would play with him.
Why do things happen the way they do?