Pancake and Waffle (Part VII)

Yes, Waffle had passed. 

At this point the boy had attended as many funerals as he had attended weddings, so he is well-adjusted to the impermanence of all things. 

For example, here is part of an e-mail exchange we had before we got the hamsters:

Thank you!  Ivam learning that hamsters can't be put in different groups so let's get 2 of the same type that look different. also if possible i would like to request a phodopus roborovskii hamster, as they live up to 3 and a half years, not like others that live to one and a half thanks. also are these two hamsters it, i mean when they pass away is that all the time i get with hamsters

Here, he is considering getting longer-lived hamsters because he is worried that, when they do die, he would never be allowed to get replacements.  Here was my response:

I’m not sure what to say.

You are going to be a completely different person at 12 or 13 or 14 than you are now. You might find other things fascinating then.

It will probably be up to you how long you want hamsters. Usually, people don’t choose pets by lifespan, otherwise everyone would own tortoises or parrots. Fish die all the time, for example, but people still love aquariums. 

It’s just the way God made the world so we can learn to appreciate how awesome and precious and special life really is. Things need to end so other things can begin.

If you take good care of your hamsters and you love them and treat them right (like I know you will), then, when they die, we can get new ones if that is what 12- or 13- or 14-year-old Ethan wants.

So, don’t pick by lifespan. Don’t treat them like the world’s saddest countdown clock. Choose them based on how much love you can give them and how much happiness they will bring you.

Love you,

Dad

So it was agreed that, when the hamsters eventually scurried off to squeeze themselves through the bars of the Pearly Gates, their replacements would keep the name Waffle or Pancake. No Roman numerals. The names would be like the titles “King” or “President”.  After passing, they would get an appropriate descriptive adjective tacked on to their name like an old-school British or French monarch.

At some point, all fathers find themselves doing something that is many, many sigma into the tails of any “My Life’s Accomplishments Probability Curve” they could imagine, pre-kid.  When the nurse hands you your infant for the first time, things like “teaching a kid how to ride a bike” and “treating a skinned knee” and various other Norman Rockwell things plunk suddenly near the dead center of that curve.  Other stuff like “Being roped into playing Joseph in several area church Christmas plays” and “Writing a series of stuffed-animal-centric comic books”, while extremely unlikely and definitely unthought of at the time, falls well outside the peak but is still somewhat plausible.

It was with that in mind that I began converting one of my son’s magic wand boxes into a miniature casket fit for a hamster.

There were still several wand boxes left over from the 2017 project.  It was short work to cut one in half and modify it like you see in the pic on the left.

We each placed something of personal value into the coffin.  The boy chose a small hunk of geode, the wife chose a small polished stone from one of the family’s vacations, and I chose a silver dime.  A hole was dug in the forest out back and Waffle the Brave was laid to rest.

(To be continued…)