Hammy goes to the Vet

It was worth every penny. If I keep repeating it, I'll believe it.

Hammy is my pet hampster. My son Adam and I adopted him from a friend last year against protests by other family members. When said family members took a self indulgent golf trip to Florida Hammy appeared on the scene in all his furry glory. Eventually they got used to him because he's so quiet and sleeps most of the time. Everyday for the past year we've have daily visits with him, watching him eat celery with an untamed hunger, running on his wheel, but mostly just checking in to see if he was alive. A few days ago on one of our visits (he lives on our kitchen counter in a plastic dome home) I woke him up and he staggered out of his den and began to scratch. What he did after that alarmed me. He ziggged and zagged, spun and itched, pinged and ponged, scratched and scratched like no little creature has ever scratched before. He was in obvious distress and I had to help the little guy. I enticed him into a glass of water (no intent to drown, just bathe). As he frantically attempted to get out of his makeshift tub, I spotted something on his belly. It was big and yellow. Hmmmmmmmm. I picked him up and held him to examine his belly. It was big and hard. Ick!
I ran to the the computer to goggle hamster ailments. Apparently they can develop skin abscesses due to excessive scratching. The scratching may be from a change in his bedding, which we did recently. They recommended a trip to the vet if an abscess is suspected.
 Adam is upset. He thinks Hammy will die like his mother Samantha (originally named Sammy before Hammy was born). She passed awy due to sheer boredom while her owners were whopping it up on the February break. Adam says," If Hammy dies, can we get an inguana?" I was slightly surprised with how Adam was coping with Hammy's illness. I replied, "Adam, we can take Hammy to the vet and they can help him get better." That was the moment that I was committed to extend Hammy's little life, no matter the cost."O-kay mom," he replied, "I hope he lives."
The next day Adam and I took Hammy to the vet in his snazzy dome carrying case. We went into a tiny examining room made with a hampster in mind. A young female vet came in and asked us while trying not to smile, "So what's wrong with the little guy?" I told her and she said that she'd like to examine him. This was the part I had my doubts about. She said, "You can hold him, or I'll get one of the girls out back to help me." I looked at her in an unconvincing was and said, "I guess I can try?" With that, Hammy was whisked out of the room and into the back room. Adam sat on the tiny chair drumming his fingers. He said, "The waiting is killing me."  Do they have a special hamster sized restraining device or do they use a tiny mask to give him some sort of anasthetic to stop him from moving? About five minutes later they came back ( which is 3 hours in hamster time), with good news. It was an absess and she drained and cleaned it. All he needs is some antibiotics and he'll be good as new. Great. Now for the bill............. I managed to cover my shock when the girl at the front desk told me it will be $83.50 !! Next stop the pet store to buy new bedding. $20. When we got home Mike didn't ask how much it cost because he really didn't want to know. Smart man.
It's funny how we qualify our pet's lives with a money value, but don't think twice to spend that kind of money on a nice dinner. He is just a hampster, but he is the hampster we love.
  Wake up Hammy, it's time to take your drop of antibiotics. Yum, Yum banana flavour! Hammy? Hammmmmy! Why are you curled up in that little stiff ball? WAKE UP HAMMY!!!!!!!  (just kidding)