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Tuesday, Feb 23, 2010 - 17:02 SGT
Posted By: Gilbert

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New Recruithams

One might think that being dead is the end of one's worries, but noooo... after nearly a year of wandering through the afterlife, I got a letter reminding me of my reservist obligations to my human guardian, in particular one which would trigger upon the death of my partner in crime, Mr. Ham G. Bacon, who just had to choose a particularly inconvenient time to pass on (and immediately clear his block leave). Very smart ah you.

I was ready to become a defaulter, but desisted because I really needed the cash. You see, the guy whose Ferrari I was going to set on fire begged me to stop, and promised to burn a paper one to me instead; I agreed, if only because I was having some trouble striking the matches.

And lo and behold, my Ferrari did indeed arrive the next day. But it was a freaking paper Ferrari. You tell me, what good is a lump of reconstituted dead tree fibre, which moreover doesn't even have the correct curves? KNNBCCB.

To cut a long story short, I've secured a good deal on a slightly-used blowtorch. Once I get the funds to purchase it outright from my human's work assignment, I will take the paper Ferrari, and place it under that wiseguy's Ferrari, and show him who's boss.

The first order of business was to get the word out, and I dutifully posted want ads on various recruitment websites, local newspapers and magazines, and even at bus-stops and void decks, despite the human gahment doing its level best to stifle free enterprise:


While I waited for responses, I scouted out proper housing for the recruits. They would have done well with our old cage, but it turns out that the human guardian's grandmother threw out all our old stuff, which would seem like a waste except that it should be incinerated anytime soon. I'm not sure what we'll do with the cage now that we have our pick of glorious subterranean landscapes and fluffy cloud tops to explore, but I suppose it'll make a decent storage space once we get a lock for the thing.

We got rather more applicants than expected, and thus had to hold several rounds of interviews. A bunch from the neighbourhood pet shop came up first, but despite our shared pedigree, I regretfully determined that they were not the elite-calibre hams we were after, and sent them form rejection letters to that respect.

The remainder were mostly from Pet Safari at Vivocity, and this is where things got interesting. I was seriously quite impressed by a trio of pudding winter whites, but sadly they all turned out to be female. Can't have that for now. Well, that's what the human says, not me.

Then I found one which was a splitting image of the young Mr. Ham G. Bacon - Lazy? Check. Promising hints of future chubbiness? Check. Allows self to be easily grabbed by humans? Check. Absolute lack of hambition? Check.

When he just stared blankly when I congratulated him and told him that he was in, I knew that I had made the right choice.

The second vacancy was filled by a fancy mottled winter white. I didn't really want to take him, but I had to admit that his sheer arrogance, energy, and unfriendliness reminded myself of a young me - heck, of an old me. His grooming was, moreover, faultless. It'll probably take a fair bit of squeezing, but I expect him to be a good fit. I also warned him not to rub in the fact that he cost thrice as much as the other hamster.

But back to their new digs:


The latest in hamster cage technology



Top view, pedometer inset


The indescribably cool built-in pedometers aside, there are various thoughtful hamgineering improvements:

  • Cage door is solid and not wired, making it harder for hamsters to climb onto it and exert force to escape
  • Cage door required to be pulled up and pushed down to be latched in place, harder to be marginally closed and give the impression of false security
  • Stairs to top level now within cage itself, for better structural integrity
  • Running balls now have no internal moving parts for durability and easier cleaning
  • Two balls are better than one - redundant array of independent balls (RAIB) technology
  • More bars for climbing/biting practice (though the human would probably have preferred some clear plastic walls for the look)
  • Cage bottom now more translucent than ever, all the more better to look at fuzzy hambutts
As for the new hires, they arrived in spiffy animal carrier cardboard boxes. They have it good nowadays - I remember back in the old days, I only got a paper bag; and not only that, I had to share it with Mr. Ham!


Might make a decent temporary home for unfortunate hamsters


Here we have Mr. Ham J. Burger (aka 火腿二世, 小甜) sleeping in the Las Hamstas Sands, with a more cautious Mr. Fish D. Watt (aka 炸鱼什么, 小花, 他妈的臭小子) keeping watch behind:


Taking after their namesakes


A note here on hamster naming conventions: Unlike individualistic humans, the family name comes first for us, therefore as Mr. Fish F. Chips, my family name is Fish and not Chips. There is also some belief in a sort of reincarnation lineage for hamsters (and I do indeed feel progressively lighter) similar to that which selected human Tibetans have, and while there are still some challenges to the theory (i.e. how does it work when the reincarnee is born before the reincarnator kicks the bucket?), but I'm confident it'll all work itself out someday. Can't be harder than general relativity.

And indeed, I warmed to the new Mr. Fish quickly enough - after getting grabbed, he makes a good show of deliberately grooming himself, to the extent of making straight for the sand bath and rolling in it. What a hoot!

The two are, if not exactly super-friendly, tolerating each other admirably, and eased easily into "you climb over me, and I climb over you" status, helped no doubt by a generous squirting of animal deodorant to mask their smells. Collaboration is coming along slowly - together, in a night, they have made 85 rounds on the left running ball, and 401 rounds on the right one, for a total of 486 rounds. As the running balls have an approximate circumference of 36cm, this translates to about 175 metres covered, which is not too shabby.

Hopefully they can take over some of the blogging duties soon. As for me, it's blowtorch time. Heh heh.



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Next: Punnished


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Interview With A Hamtire
A Tent In Florence
Fishing For Links
Mild Headaches To All Humans!
RIP Mr Fish
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