On Forgiveness

Kyle and I were due for a night out. We were busy all day Saturday - Erin and I at a Youth at Heart party, Kyle hanging Christmas lights (He definitely drew the short straw). So we had looked forward to dinner at our date place...Cafe Ole in Brookside. We were just pulling into the parking place when the phone rang. Caller ID showed it was a call from "Home." Erin was babysitting Alison. This probably wasn't a good sign. I answered it, and Erin said something like this: "The hamster is dead. Really dead. What do you want me to do?"

I repeated her words to Kyle, and then asked her what happened. She didn't know. Alison was crying too hard to tell her. I knew it was time to head for home, so I motioned for Kyle to put the car in reverse, and said, "I guess we need to head for home." He didn't make a move. "Are you sure she's dead?" I asked Erin. "Maybe she's just hurt." No, Erin said she was not moving and her eyes were open, and that through her sobs, Alison had said something about Pierre. Kyle held out his hand for the phone, talked Erin through returning the hamster to the cage until we got home and talked soothingly to Alison, promising her that we would bury the hamster when we got home and go to the pet shop tomorrow to get another hamster. I took the phone back, told Erin that we would be home shortly and to cuddle Alison until we got there. "She seems okay now," Erin said. "Did you tell her she's getting another hamster?"

Children are resilient. We consoled ourselves with this reality as we entered the restaurant. Now, you may judge us if you want to for being really bad parents and not rushing home to our daughter, but by the time Erin was back on the phone with me, Alison was hopping around anticipating a new hamster. What would you have done?

So Alison is fine and dandy. Kyle took her to the pet shop today and they picked out another hamster - a baby girl hamster that Alison named Rocky (after she had been through two other names....Tiffany and Hannah). So all is well. Except for the fact that we are all having a little forgiveness issue with the sweet little White Westie who has been bred to hunt rodents. We know that it is part of who he is...find the rodent, kill the rodent. But we can't escape this fact: he found the rodent and killed the rodent when we were conveniently gone for the evening. Is this coincidence? I think not. Is he a smart dog? Yes he is. I am going to make a leap here and give you what I believe was the thought process of one particular West Highland Terrier on one particular Saturday evening in December: Alpha Male (not my term...the dog's) is leaving with Alpha Female and they are giving out detailed instructions. This means they will be gone for an extended period of time. White Westie sees this as a good thing. The rodent has been making him a nervous wreck for about two weeks now. He knows that this is not a rodent he can hunt because it has a nice cage that sits inside the house and the Little One who loves White Westie carries the newly arrived rodent around in her cupped hands or in her pocket. This is no ordinary rodent, and so White Westie determines that he must watch carefully to determine the lay of the land here. He's not absolutely sure of the rodent's status yet, but he's getting a good idea. And he doesn't like it. See, the Little One has loved him dearly for as long as he can remember. Every day after school she comes home to him and he is her constant companion. They lay on the chair together and watch Arthur. They play outside, where she will sometimes put White Westie on the trampoline with her. He doesn't mind. He loves to be loved. But things have been changing over the past several weeks. The little rodent seems to be taking his place in some small way. He's been trying to hide his anxiety, but everyone in the house can see right through him. They see how he paces, how jumpy he is, how he is drawn to the Little One's bedroom to see what might be happening in there with the rodent. And then, on date night, he sees his opportunity. And he takes it. No one will ever know what really happened because Alpha Male and Female are not around, Little One's big sister is busy cooking dinner, and Little One loves him too much to ever tell anyone what really happened. So he makes his move. The result: One hamster with a broken neck.

We buried Twinkles the Hamster in the flower bed in the front yard while White Westie watched through the glass door. Since then, he has been slinking around the house looking oh-so-pitiful and making little groaning sounds when he tries to crawl up in someone's lap. We not speaking to him much right now. We know it's time to forgive and forget. Alison has. We must put aside his conniving plan to annihilate the tiny pet while we were out of the house. Perhaps he has learned his lesson. As I type he is laying on half of my lap, forcing me to wrench one arm in a strange position and slant my wrist at an impossible angle. He keeps looking up at me with these eyes and I think he might know that I am writing a post about him and spilling the whole story. He's desperate. And I'm a sucker for a dog with sad eyes, so I'm forgiving him. But the next time it's date night he is definitely spending the evening outside.