Fred
The first pet that I ever had that was all my own was a hamster named Fred. I got him from a cousin of mine who’s mom was making him get rid of it. I got Fred, a cage, and some tube mazes for him for around $10. It was one of the best $10 that I’ve ever spent. Fred was friendly, sociable, and very active. He was a great pet for a 10 year old to have. I had many shirts that had pockets on the chest, and Fred would spend countless hours curled up inside those pockets sleeping away while I did homework, read a book, or watched TV.
Fred was also an escape artist. It seemed that no matter what steps we took to keep him in his cage, he would escape on a regular basis. The only way that we had to catch him was for me to sleep on the floor in the room that we kept his cage in. I would grab a blanket or two, and a pillow. I would sleep in one of those shirts with the pockets on it. Sometime during the night, he would crawl on top of me, and burrow into the pocket. Once he was situated, he would fall fast asleep in my pocket. I would get up in the morning to find his little pink nose sticking out of the pocket to greet me. He was a great hamster.
I remember the day that he died quite vividly. He had passed away sometime in the night, and my grandmother was frantic about how to replace him without me knowing. She always tried to shelter me from the hardships of life, but that’s another story for another time. We were getting ready to go to the big Little League season-ending wrap-up party were awards were given out, and the rankings for the season were announced. I went to Fred’s cage to tell him goodbye, and that I would be back after the party. That’s when I found his cold little body lying rigidly on the floor of his cage.
I was crushed.
The first thing, other than family, that I had loved was gone. I spent the entire Little League party sitting on a bench alone just crying my eyes out. There had been times in my life up to this point that I had cried. Skinned knees. Not being allowed to play with my friends. Being forced to stay at home when I wanted to go out. Little things. This was the first major thing in my life that I had cried over.
When we got back from the party, my grandfather suggested a funeral for Fred. He knew that it would bring me closure, and help me start to heal. I didn’t know this at the time, but he was entirely right. We got a shoe-box that I padded with tissues, and placed Fred’s cold little body into the box. We put the lid on the box, grabbed two shovels, and picked a place under the peach trees to put Fred to rest. Even though this was over two decades ago, I know that I can still find that spot without any effort. I know exactly where it is at.
After burying Fred, my grandfather told me to say a few words to wish Fred on his way. I choked up so hard that I could only utter, “Fred, you were the best…” I couldn’t say anything more, but it summed up Fred as best as I could.
I’ve had many pets over the years since then, but none of them have ever replaced the love that I felt for Fred.
