Imagination According to Humphrey

by Betty G. Birney

  And I couldn’t stop thinking about the room I’d missed.

  MY WRITER’S RAMBLINGS

  My cage is such a cozy place—

  I really do approve.

  But since I saw the little house,

  I think I want to move!

  House Hunting

  I ate the piece of apple that was stored in my cheek while I stared at the house in the middle of the room.

  After a while, Sophie returned with her father.

  “See, Dad,” she said, running to my cage. “It’s Humphrey! Isn’t he cute?”

  Mr. Kaminski followed her and bent down to look in my cage. “Where is he?” he asked.

  I poked my head out of my sleeping hut.

  Mr. Kaminski chuckled. “Oh, there he is. Hi, Humphrey.”

  “HI-HI-HI to you!” I said.

  Sophie showed him my water bottle, my wheel, my ladder and my sleeping hut.

  I hopped on my wheel to show her father how fast I could spin.

  I could tell he was enjoying himself until his phone rang and he had to answer it.

  After he’d left the room, Sophie was VERY-VERY-VERY quiet.

  “Business,” she muttered.

  I’m not sure exactly what business it was, but it didn’t sound like a good thing.

  A few minutes later, Mr. Kaminski appeared in the doorway. He was still talking on the phone, but he motioned for Sophie to come with him and then moved his hand to his mouth as if he were eating.

  “Dinnertime, Humphrey!” she said.

  Sophie nicely checked to see that there was food in my dish and then hurried out of the room.

  She wasn’t gone for long.

  “So . . . Timothy got sick and Mom says he has a temperature and Dad went out to get him medicine,” Sophie said. “I watched TV, but you know what? I missed you, Humphrey, because you are my best friend.”

  “That’s great!” I squeaked.

  “You always listen to me,” she continued. “You’re never too busy. You don’t have to go to work or write reports or take care of babies.”

  It was all true, except the part about writing. I write my reports, even though no one in Room 26 sees them.

  “So maybe you’d like to hear my paragraph,” she said.

  “Of course,” I said.

  “If I could be a pretty parrot, I’d fly across the ocean to the magical Island of the Parrots,” she read. “I could tell my parrot pals about my day at school and my friends in Room Twenty-six—and they’d listen! Then they would tell me what it’s like to live high in the treetops and be able to fly—and about their parrot classes. And I would listen. That would make me happy because sometimes, people don’t listen to me.”

  She stopped reading and turned to me. “What do you think, Humphrey?”

  “I think you have a wonderful imagination,” I squeaked.

  She giggled at my squeaks.

  But now I knew how much it bothered Sophie that her parents were too busy to listen.

  She talked a lot that evening and I listened.

  Later, when she went to bed, her mom—carrying the blanket with Timothy inside—tucked her in with a kiss.

  Of course, Timothy went, “Waaah! Waaah!” and Mrs. Kaminski hurried out of the room.

  The next morning, things hadn’t changed much.

  Sophie’s father was writing his report. Her mother was taking care of Timothy, who seemed to cry more than he slept.

  Sophie sat next to my cage and talked. And talked. And talked.

  I was glad to listen, but I have to admit, my small hamster ears were getting tired!

  Luckily, Carter George came over to visit.

  “Look—there’s his wheel that he loves to spin on and he has a sleeping hut, a water bottle, a food dish and a ladder to climb. Plus he can roll around in his hamster ball,” Sophie explained.

  Carter nodded.

  “I’m sorry your class doesn’t have a classroom pet,” she continued without stopping to take a breath. “You could have a hamster or a guinea pig or a bunny or even a frog like Og. He’s so funny. Would you like a classroom pet?”

  Carter nodded.

  “Which pet would you like?”

  Carter shrugged.

  “Did I ever tell you about my dream where I went to the Island of the Parrots and we could talk to each other? I’m writing about it now,” she said. “Do you like parrots?”

  Carter nodded.

  Sophie was finally silent for a moment. Then she asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?”

  “Not really,” Carter said. “I’m not much of a talker.”

  So Sophie took me out of my cage and over to the dollhouse.

  Carter laughed when I went in the bathtub and then scurried to the bed.

  That little bed was so soft and cozy!

  Then Sophie put me back in my cage while she and Carter left to play a game.

  I have to admit, I was ready for a nap, so I darted into my sleeping hut.

  It was cozy, but I kept looking at the dollhouse and that REALLY-REALLY-REALLY soft bed.

  I stared at it until I went to sleep.

  I must have dozed a long time, because when I woke up, Sophie was going to bed.

  “Good night, Humphrey,” she said with a yawn.

  I’m happy to say that Sophie does not talk in her sleep!

  The next morning, Sophie’s mother came into the room without Timothy.

  “I’m sorry this hasn’t been a great weekend for you,” she said. “Timothy’s been so fussy. I think he has a cold. It’s very hard for babies when they have a cold.”

  “I have colds sometimes,” Sophie said.

  “Yes, but babies can’t tell you what’s wrong, so that’s a worry,” her mom said. “And I can’t make chicken soup for him the way I do for you.”

  I was HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY when Mrs. Kaminski gave Sophie a hug.

  “Are you having fun with Humphrey?” she asked.

  Sophie nodded. “Yes! I’d like to get a pet of my own.”

  Mrs. Kaminski nodded. “I know. But I think it would be better to wait until Timothy’s a little older.”

  I could tell how disappointed Sophie was, although I’m not sure how much I’d enjoy a visit to her house if she got a large dog or cat!

  “Do you have homework?” Mrs. Kaminski asked.

  Sophie started to tell her about the island with the parrots but she didn’t get to finish.

  “Waaah! Waaah!” Timothy cried.

  Mrs. Kaminski jumped up.

  “I’ve got to see what’s wrong,” she said. “Your dad has to finish his report by tomorrow.”

  “But it’s the weekend,” Sophie complained.

  “Dad’s boss doesn’t believe in weekends,” Mrs. Kaminski said. “Come with me.”

  Sophie did leave with her mom, but I think she would have liked to sit and talk some more—without Timothy.

  When I see my classmates having a problem, I always try to help them. So I hopped on my wheel and started spinning, thinking about what I could do.

  I wanted to tell the Kaminskis that Sophie needed someone to listen to her. I knew she loved the baby, but she felt left out.

  My problem was that I couldn’t tell them, because even though I understand humans, they don’t understand me.

  If I said, “Please help Sophie by spending time listening to her,” all they would hear would be “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK.”

  How could I get their attention?

  Then, I thought of a Plan.

  It was a risky Plan, because I don’t want any humans to discover my lock-that-doesn’t-lock. If they did, they’d probably fix it, and where would I be? Stuck in my cage forever!

  Still, Sophie needed my help. And I did want to go back and explore that
little house some more.

  On Sunday afternoon, Sophie worked on her report. But that didn’t keep her from talking.

  She wrote for a while and then said, “Humphrey, do you think there are pink and purple parrots? I’ve never seen one, but parrots come in all colors. Oh, I wish I could really talk to them!”

  Then she wrote some more. “Humphrey, which do you like better? I first wrote ‘pretty parrot,’ and then I wrote ‘gorgeous parrot,’ but now I might change it to ‘stunning parrot’ or even ‘splendid parrot.’ What do you think?”

  “I’m not sure,” I squeaked back. “I like them all.”

  I hoped she didn’t think I actually liked parrots. But I liked what she wrote about them.

  I was surprised when her father came in.

  “How’s the homework coming?” he asked.

  “I’m finishing,” Sophie said. “How does ‘splendid parrot’ sound?”

  Her father smiled and said, “It sounds splendid to me. I’m sorry my report is taking so long. Your mom has had a tough time with Timothy being sick. I can’t help her as much as I’d like, so why don’t we order a pizza?”

  The smile on Sophie’s face was splendid!

  “See you later, Humphrey,” she called as she left.

  I was HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY about what had just happened. I realized that I hadn’t seen everyone in the family all together in one room so far.

  I crossed my toes and hoped my Plan would work.

  I don’t know how long it takes to eat pizza, but I took a chance and jiggled the lock-that-doesn’t-lock on my cage.

  The table my cage was on had a smooth leg to slide down. I scurried over to the dollhouse and went into the living room.

  I looked at the TV, trying to imagine what it would be like to live in a hamster-sized house with my own television. Is there a hamster channel?

  This time, I tried the little chair, but it was too small—even for a hamster.

  Then I darted into the kitchen, hoping for some more fried chicken and mashed potatoes. I opened the little fridge, but there was nothing inside.

  I climbed the stairs and entered the second bedroom. I’d missed that the first time.

  It had windows that went to the floor and they opened onto a little balcony.

  It was fun to stand there, but then I had to check out the bed.

  Ahhh. It was such a nice bed with four tall columns and a little cover over the top. It was almost as if it had been made for me.

  I lay down and thought about how soft it was. And how cozy it was.

  And then . . . I think maybe I dozed off!

  The next thing I knew, Sophie was standing by my cage with a piece of pizza in one hand. It smelled hamster-licious!

  “Hi, Humphrey,” she said. “I’m sorry you can’t eat pizza, because it’s delicious. But Timothy started screaming and Mom and Dad both left the room. They haven’t come back yet, so I thought I’d talk to you.”

  She sat down on her bed and stared into my cage. “It was nice for a while,” she said in a soft voice.

  I didn’t squeak a word because I wasn’t in my cage! I hoped this risk was worth it.

  Suddenly Sophie said, “Humphrey? Where are you? Are you playing hide-and-seek?”

  Again, I didn’t answer. So she stood up and opened the cage door.

  (I’d closed it behind me, so she had no idea I wasn’t there.)

  Sophie poked around in my bedding. Then she peeked into my sleeping hut.

  “Humphrey? HUMPHREY!” she cried.

  I didn’t move a muscle.

  She raced to the door. “Humphrey’s gone!” she wailed.

  (I could tell that she and Timothy were related, but Sophie was even louder.)

  “Help me!” she cried.

  In seconds, Mr. and Mrs. Kaminski appeared.

  “What’s wrong? Are you all right?” Sophie’s father asked.

  Sophie started crying. “Humphrey’s . . . not . . . in . . . his . . . cage!” she said between sobs. “He’s gone!”

  Mr. Kaminski rushed to my cage and started feeling around in the bedding. “Where could he be?” he asked. “Was the cage door open?”

  “Nooooo,” Sophie cried. “It was closed!”

  I hated to see her cry, but at least she and her parents were in the same room.

  Mr. Kaminski looked up from my cage. “He’s not here.”

  “He must be here somewhere,” Sophie’s mom said. “Let’s look around.”

  So the family looked up and down, high and low . . . but it was a LONG-LONG-LONG time before they looked in the dollhouse.

  “He’s gone! Humphrey’s gone!” Sophie howled. “And it’s all my fault! Everyone in class will be mad at me! Even Mrs. Brisbane!”

  Her father tried to calm her down.

  Between her tears, Sophie explained that after she’d put me in the dollhouse and I’d gone in the kitchen, the bathtub and the bed, she’d closed the cage door so carefully.

  Mrs. Kaminski came over to the little house, leaned down—and that was it! She started to laugh. I hadn’t heard her laugh before.

  “Humphrey’s having a nice little nap right here,” she said. “Come on, Sophie. Look in the bed.”

  Sophie rushed over and her wails turned to giggles.

  “Oh, Humphrey!” she said. “I thought you’d run away. Everyone in Room Twenty-six would be upset. And I’d be upset!”

  She started to cry again.

  “It’s all right.” Her dad patted her shoulder.

  “How did he get out?” she asked.

  “I’ve heard hamsters are pretty good at escaping their cages,” Mr. Kaminski said.

  He was right about that!

  Sophie picked me up and then it happened.

  “Waaah! Waaah! WAAAH!”

  “I’ll get him,” Mrs. Kaminski said.

  “Let him cry for a bit,” Mr. Kaminski said.

  “I think I should check on him,” Sophie’s mom said, heading toward the door.

  “All you care about is Timothy! You don’t ever want to talk to me! You don’t even care about Humphrey!” she cried.

  Sophie had me cupped in her hand, but I could see the look on her mother’s face.

  “Oh, Sophie! You know how much we love you!” she said.

  “You’re our first baby,” her dad said. “And we couldn’t love you more!”

  They both hugged Sophie while Timothy screamed in the background.

  “Timothy’s having some problems,” Mrs. Kaminski said. “But he’ll be better soon.”

  “I’ll go get him,” Mr. Kaminski said.

  Sophie’s mom smiled. “I have a better idea. Sophie, why don’t you get Timothy and bring him here? After all, you’re his big sister. You know how to pick him up carefully.”

  Sophie wiped away her tears. “All right.”

  Mr. Kaminski gently put me back in my cage and closed the door. He checked the lock and said, “It’s latched tightly.”

  Humans always think that, thank goodness.

  Sophie returned a minute later, carrying the crying blanket. At least the crying was softer now.

  “Look, Timothy,” she said. “This is Humphrey the hamster.” She walked over to the cage and held the blanket up.

  I thought quickly and hopped on my wheel. “Hi, Timothy,” I squeaked. “Watch me spin on my wheel!”

  And then, the most amazing thing happened. Timothy stopped crying and stared at me, so I kept spinning.

  “Isn’t he cute, Timothy?” Sophie asked.

  Timothy actually smiled!

  “Look, Humphrey! He likes you!” Sophie said.

  Mr. and Mrs. Kaminski began to laugh.

  “Goo,” Timothy said.

  I’m not sure what that meant, but I’m pretty sure it
meant he liked me.

  “GOO-GOO-GOO!” I squeaked. Timothy giggled.

  “That’s his first laugh in days,” his mom said. “He must be feeling better!”

  I was feeling better, too. Being caught out of my cage was risky, but I was HAPPY-HAPPY-HAPPY to help the Kaminskis get together—even Timothy.

  I finally got tired of spinning and climbed up my ladder.

  Sophie handed Timothy to her dad and they all sat on the bed, next to my cage.

  “I’m so sorry I haven’t had time for you,” her mom said. “Timothy is so lucky to have you as a sister.”

  “We’re all lucky to have Sophie,” her dad said.

  “YES-YES-YES!” I squeaked and they all laughed.

  “GOO-GOO-GOO!” Timothy gurgled and everyone laughed again.

  “How did your homework go?” Mr. Kaminski asked.

  Sophie read them her paragraph about the Island of the Parrots and they loved it.

  “You know, we are a family,” Sophie’s mother said. “Let’s start acting like one.”

  Then they talked about setting up a schedule where they’d have time to listen to Sophie and time for Timothy and time for Mr. Kaminski’s reports.

  They kept talking, but I didn’t hear it all.

  I’d done everything I could do as a classroom pet.

  But to squeak the truth—I needed some rest!

  MY WRITER’S RAMBLINGS

  It isn’t always easy

  to be a classroom pet.

  But what I did at Sophie’s house

  may be my best trick yet!

  Pearl

  I was happy to get back to Room 26 on Monday and even happier to know that I’d helped Sophie out. I always like to lend a helping paw.

  Mrs. Brisbane asked how the weekend had gone.

  “Oh, it was wonderful,” Sophie said. “You should have seen Humphrey in my dollhouse! He got in the tub and on the bed, just like it was his own little house.”

  It would have been nice to have a real house, but I was happy to be in my cage and back in Room 26.

  I had my schedule for Monday all worked out: Math, nap, language arts, nap, lunch, nap, recess, nap, science, reading and NAP! I even dozed while my friends came into Room 26 that morning.