On this day, some 19 years ago, I arbitrarily decided that August 2nd would be Fuzzy’s birthday. Fuzzy was my hamster. He once went blind. The poor fella couldn’t even walk up his little ladder and go to bed in his house. Instead, he fell over a lot, despite being on all fours, and just spent his days sleeping in the corner of his smelly cage. Swear to God, in my father’s “Well, what the hell” approach to things, he crushed up Tylenol and put it in Fuzzy’s water bottle. No shit, after a few days, the little bastard could see again. He twirled in his wheel, chased down pieces of carrots fired into his cage. Fuzzy was reborn.
Then, of course, he died a short time later, after a long and joyous life.
So, Happy Birthday, Fuzzy. Hope you’re spinning in that big wheel in the sky.
