Trouble According to Humphrey

by Betty G. Birney

  “He’s pretty peppy, but he hasn’t been eating as much as usual,” said Mr. Brisbane.

  “Made all my kids sick,” said Mr. Payne.

  Dr. Drew was surprised. “Really?”

  “Yep. He spent the weekend at our house and all my kids got sick. Some of the other kids at school, too. Right?” He turned to Mrs. Brisbane.

  “Everyone who’s been sick seems to have a cold, even children who didn’t take Humphrey home,” Mrs. Brisbane said firmly.

  “It’s highly unusual for humans to get sick from handling a hamster. It’s more common for a hamster to pick up a disease from a human or another animal. But let’s check him out.”

  Dr. Drew’s touch was so gentle, I relaxed. She put one hand underneath me and held her other hand above my head, making a little tent for me. VERY-VERY-VERY nice.

  “We’ll check the eyes first, because that’s where we usually see signs of infection or disease in hamsters.” Cupping me in one hand, she shined a tiny light directly in one eye. Whoa—that’s a wake-up call. Next, she checked my other eye.

  “Looking good,” she said. “No discharge or inflammation. Now I’ll listen to his heartbeat.”

  Dr. Drew picked up a stethoscope (a word I do not want to see on a spelling test). It had a plug for each of her ears and a teeny piece that she held against my chest. First, she listened. Then, she smiled. “Excellent. A very healthy heart, Humphrey. Now let’s check out that weight.”

  She set me on a scale that was flat and square. She also put a few chunks of Nutri-Nibbles on the scale. “Those will keep him there for a second.” She let go of me and while I picked up a treat, she said, “Well, even if he’s not been eating well, his weight is completely normal.”

  While I nibbled away, Dr. Drew and Mrs. Brisbane discussed what I ate.

  “He usually eats everything: vegetables, fruit, hamster food, yogurt drops,” Mrs. Brisbane said.

  “Excellent,” said the vet. “Lots of variety. That’s what hamsters like—right, Humphrey?”

  “You bet!” I squeaked, and the doctor chuckled.

  “But I just found some old food hidden in his cage and realized he’s not been eating as much as before,” Mr. Brisbane said.

  Dr. Drew bit her lip for a second, then asked, “Has there been any change in his environment lately?”

  Mrs. Brisbane nodded. “Well, I had to take him out of the classroom because of the complaint.”

  I noticed Mr. Payne was staring at his shoes.

  “So I guess things are a little upset for him,” my teacher added.

  “That could be it,” said Dr. Drew. “Some hamsters are very sensitive even to small changes.”

  She was right about that. I am a very sensitive hamster. And Dr. Drew is a very good veterinarian.

  “Sometimes hamsters get infections in their cheek pouches because they store food there. So, open wide, Humphrey.” She picked me up and gently pulled my mouth open, using the small light to look inside. “Clean as a whistle,” she said. “Fur is nice and shiny. I’ll take a sample of some stool, if there’s any in there.”

  I was confused, but it turns out that stool is poo. She took some from my cage with a tweezers and put it in a tube.

  “It’s nice and firm, which is a good sign.”

  What a surprise! Usually when my classmates clean my cage, they go, “Ewwww” or “Yuck” when they get to the poo part. But it didn’t bother the doctor at all. She even had a nice name for it: stool.

  The vet held me up to her eye level and said, “Humphrey, we need to get you back to your old environment, but in the meantime, you are one healthy, handsome hamster.”

  I remember when Ms. Mac picked me out at Pet-O-Rama and told Carl, the store clerk, “He’s obviously the most intelligent and handsome hamster you have.” I sure missed Ms. Mac, but she sent me postcards, so I knew she still cared. Dr. Drew cared, too. She may not have been able to figure out that I felt guilty about Miranda, but she had figured out that I wasn’t sick.

  “Try varying his food even more. And just to make sure he perks up, I’m giving you some yummy vitamin chews. I guarantee Humphrey will like them.”

  I liked them already. In fact, I felt so happy, I was a little hungry.

  She gently put me back in my cage. “Humphrey, I have a friend here today you might like to meet.” She went to the door and called out, “Judy? Could you bring Winky in here?”

  Then she turned to Mr. Payne. “Tell me, what did the doctor say about your children’s illnesses?”

  Mr. Payne looked down at the tips of his toes and squirmed like Sit-Still-Seth.

  “Didn’t take them. Kind of expensive. See, we haven’t got insurance, and …”

  “I see,” said the vet. “But they’re better now.”

  “Yes. They had runny noses and coughs and a temperature for a few days. Just about drove me nuts. I take care of them now that I …” He stopped. Mr. Payne sure had a hard time finishing sentences.

  “Well, I don’t think it was from Humphrey,” said the vet.

  “The wife’s convinced it is.”

  There was silence until Mrs. Brisbane said, “Dr. Drew, could you write a report or a letter and send it to Mrs. Payne? That would probably put her mind at ease. In fact, I could pass it on to the principal and other parents.”

  Dr. Drew smiled. “Sure! I’d be glad to.”

  Just then, the door opened and a blond woman who wore a pink smock with pictures of teddy bears all over it came in, carrying a small cage. “Here’s Winky,” she said.

  Dr. Drew introduced everyone to Judy and said, “Judy rescues hamsters. Sometimes she has more than twenty of them in her house.”

  “Rescues them from where?” asked Mr. Brisbane. It was the exact question I wanted to ask. I was picturing hamsters on top of burning buildings … floating down rafts in a flood … trapped by the weight of an avalanche!

  “Sometimes people decide that taking care of a hamster is too much work. That’s something to think about when you get a pet,” said Judy. “Mostly I get them from Pet-O-Rama. They’re rejects, like Winky here.”

  “Reject hamsters?” asked Mr. Brisbane.

  “Yes, if they’re not perfect, people won’t buy them.” She put Winky’s cage on the table next to mine. I could easily see how he got his name because he was winking at me. I winked back.

  “For some reason, Winky was born with one eye and he doesn’t have any teeth. Neither of those things bother him. He’s able to eat a variety of foods and he only needs one good eye.”

  “He does look like he’s winking,” said Mrs. Brisbane. “He’s very cute.”

  He was not as handsome as I am, but I have to admit, he looked like a nice fellow.

  “Hi, Winky. You look fine to me,” I squeaked.

  And was I surprised when he squeaked back. “Thanks, fellow. I was kind of worried when Pet-O-Rama rejected me. Luckily, Judy came around and rescued me.”

  He understood me and I understood him. This was a first!

  “Pet-O-Rama! That’s where I came from!” I told him. “Remember Carl? He just got made assistant manager,” Winky squeaked at me.

  “Imagine that!”

  “They had a big party to celebrate,” he added.

  “You don’t say. Hey, did they ever sell that chinchilla?” I asked.

  “Yep. A real nice family took him,” he told me. “Oh, and just before I left, they got in a big shipment of new hamster cages. One of them is four levels high.”

  “No kidding!”

  Suddenly all the humans, even Mr. Payne, were laughing.

  “Sounds like these two have a lot in common,” said Mrs. Brisbane.

  “Let’s get them a little closer.” Dr. Drew took me out of the cage again. Judy took Winky out of his cage.

  “Now, you shouldn’t put hamsters together in the same cage unless they’ve been raised together. But they can sniff each other.”

  Judy held Winky up close to me and we stared at each other, eye
to eye. I took a big sniff. Yep, he was a hamster all right.

  “Where do you live now?” he asked.

  “In a school room with lots of kids,” I said.

  “Sounds like fun,” Winky replied.

  “It is. But it’s work, too.”

  Winky definitely winked at me. “Nice work if you can get it, pal.”

  With that, we were whisked back into our cages.

  “If you know anyone who wants a special, winking, happy hamster, give me a call,” said Judy.

  I only had time to squeak, “Good luck,” before Winky was gone.

  “Any other questions?” asked the vet.

  No one had any, so my cage was closed up and we were ready to go. Before we got to the door, Dr. Drew said, “Oh, by the way, if you know anyone searching for a job, we have an opening for a veterinary assistant.”

  Mr. Payne stopped in his tracks. “What’s that?”

  “Someone to feed the animals, give them water, take them for walks, clean their cages, give them medicine. The person has to be able to lift heavy bags of food, interact with animals, that sort of thing. We’ll train.”

  Mr. Payne had a strange look in his eyes. “And the hours?”

  “There’s some flexibility there. Do you have someone in mind?”

  Mr. Payne hesitated. I decided to squeak up for him.

  “He needs a job! Hire Mr. Payne! PLEASE-PLEASE-PLEASE!”

  Dr. Drew turned toward me. “Humphrey, do you have someone in mind?”

  “MR. PAYNE!” I never squeaked so loudly in my whole life.

  “I know you’re trying to tell us something.”

  Mr. Payne cleared his throat. “I might be interested. I mean, I don’t know if I’m right for the job.”

  The vet turned to him and smiled. “How do you feel about taking care of animals?”

  “Good,” Mr. Payne said. “I had a nice dog when I was a kid. Name was Lady. And I learned a lot from watching this exam. I’m strong. I’m a good worker.”

  “Why don’t you fill out an application now and come in and talk to my partners and me tomorrow morning? You can bring the children if you need to.”

  I saw something new in Mr. Payne’s eyes. They came to life for a few seconds.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Soon we were out in the waiting room. Mandy was holding a funny dog in her lap. He had short legs and a long body. Tammy, Pammy and Brian stood around her, staring at the odd animal.

  “See, Dad? It’s a wiener dog!” she cried out.

  The lady sitting next to Mandy, who obviously owned the dog, smiled. “A dachshund, actually. His name is Fritz.”

  Fritz did look like a wiener. Or a sausage. Or a hot dog.

  “Do you like dogs, Mandy?” asked Mrs. Brisbane.

  “Yes. And cats, too. But what I’d really like is a hamster.”

  Smart girl, that Mandy.

  Dr. Drew took Fritz and his owner into the office.

  “Kids, I’ve got to fill out some papers,” said Mr. Payne. “Please be quiet and let me concentrate.”

  “Okay. We’ll watch the fish,” said Mandy. “How’s Humphrey?”

  “Humphrey?” said Mrs. Brisbane. “Humphrey is just perfect.”

  It was nice to hear that I was perfect, even though I knew I was not.

  HUMPHREY EXAMINED BY

  VETERINARIAN

  Students anxiously await

  classroom hamster’s medical report.

  The Humphreyville Herald

  The Domino Decision

  I was hoping to get back to school the next day, but Mrs. Brisbane said she wanted to present the doctor’s report to Principal Morales and Mrs. Payne and the room mothers so that everyone would agree that it was all right for me to go back in the classroom. That was disappointing, of course. For one thing, my friends were putting the finishing touches on Humphreyville. For another thing, Og got to go back to Room 26—since nobody accused him of making humans sick—and I was all alone at the Brisbanes’ house.

  The Brisbanes were nice, but my job was to help my classmates and it was pretty hard to do that without being there. Did Miranda have a job she liked? Was Art paying attention in class? Did Paul look happier now? I had no way of knowing, sitting in my cage at the Brisbanes’ house.

  Mr. Brisbane tried to entertain me during the day, but it seemed QUIET-QUIET-QUIET compared to Room 26. For one thing, he was out in his workshop a lot, making things out of wood. Or he was at the Senior Center, where he taught other people to make things out of wood. Some evenings he went out and taught woodcraft at the Youth Center while Mrs. Brisbane quietly graded papers.

  I had plenty of time to think. Mostly, I thought about Miranda.

  And I thought about what a rat I was. I’ve noticed that humans sometimes called bad people “rats.” (I’d like to tell them that the pet rats they sold at Pet-O-Rama were perfectly decent and upstanding rodents.) I knew I was a “rat” because I’d let Miranda take the blame for something I’d done. And I hadn’t helped her because I wanted to keep my freedom, so I could come and go as I pleased.

  No wonder I’d had trouble eating and sleeping. However, the vitamin chews were just as yummy as Dr. Drew had said.

  When Mrs. Brisbane came home, she was full of news about Room 26. She told her husband and me that Mandy, Art and Heidi were all back in school but that Richie and Sayeh were now out sick. Obviously, there was “something” going around … and that “something” was not me (thank goodness)!

  She also told us that instead of having their homes sitting around on tables, the students had actually put Humphreyville together like a real town. “I think I’d like to move there myself,” she told me. “And your statue looks great.”

  “You must be proud, Humphrey,” said Mr. Brisbane. “Not many hamsters have statues built in their honor.”

  He didn’t realize that it was the statue of a rat.

  Mrs. Brisbane said that Principal Morales had given permission for me to come back in the classroom. All the parents had been contacted and everyone wanted me back. Of course, she said the kids always did want me back.

  “Here’s the best news of all. Mandy’s mother called and said that she’d read Dr. Drew’s report and that she was sorry she blamed you for making her kids sick. She said that they probably just had bad colds. Then, she told me something else.”

  Mrs. Brisbane paused.

  “What?” Mr. Brisbane asked.

  “WHAT?” I squeaked.

  “She said that in the end, it was a good thing Humphrey went to the vet because her husband ended up getting the job at the veterinary clinic. I guess he’d been out of work for quite a while. She told me to thank him.” She turned to me. “Thank you, Humphrey.”

  I was happy! I was ecstatic (which is a long word that means REALLY-REALLY-REALLY happy). Ordinarily, I would have jumped on my wheel and spun for joy. But for some reason, the more good news Mrs. Brisbane had, the worse I felt. All the nice feelings just made me feel more and more like a rat.

  It’s not easy being a rat. It’s easier to make a decision. And even a rat like me can make the right decision. Of course, I’d always known what the right thing to do was. Deciding to do it was another thing.

  Later that evening, after their dinner, the Brisbanes sat near my cage and played a game of dominoes. It seemed like an interesting game with lots of dots on rectangular tiles. They moved the dominoes around, making long rows that crisscrossed the table. Occasionally one of them would shout out, “Good one!” or “Oh, no!”

  I took a deep breath. Then, as I had done so many times before, I reached out, jiggled my lock-that-doesn’t-lock and opened the door to my cage. I darted out onto the table and danced across the dominoes, figuring I might as well enjoy my last bit of freedom.

  Mrs. Brisbane gasped. “Humphrey!”

  Just then, I lost my footing on the slick tiles and skidded across a row of dominoes, sending them scattering in different directions.

  “Hey! I was w
inning,” said Mr. Brisbane. He scooped me up in his hand and stroked my fur. “Calm down, calm down.”

  “How on earth did he get out?” Mrs. Brisbane leaned over to inspect the door of my cage. “I guess I didn’t close it all the way.”

  “I guess not.” Mr. Brisbane gently put me back in my cage and closed the door. He tested it from the outside. “Now it’s closed tightly. Want to try another game?”

  “Sure.” Mrs. Brisbane turned all the dominoes facedown so I couldn’t see any of the dots. She mixed them all up and she and her husband each drew seven tiles—which they called “bones.” Mr. Brisbane drew one tile and put it in the center of the table and the game began.

  I stopped to catch my breath. Mrs. Brisbane was convinced that she hadn’t closed the door properly. I still had a chance to keep my freedom (and keep being a rat). But I’d made up my mind and there was no turning back.

  I waited until there were rows of dominoes going in all directions. Picturing Miranda’s face, I pushed my lock-that-doesn’t-lock and the door to my cage swung open. I scurried across the table, leaped onto the dominoes, and squeaked, “Don’t you get it? Miranda didn’t leave my cage door unlocked!”

  I knew it sounded like “SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK” to the humans, but I had to get my point across.

  The Brisbanes looked more than surprised. They looked stunned.

  “How did he do that?” Mr. Brisbane asked after a few seconds of silence. “I know that door was locked.”

  Mrs. Brisbane picked me up. “Humphrey, what are you trying to tell us?”

  Mr. Brisbane went over to my cage and fiddled around with the door again. “I don’t get it. I just don’t get it,” he muttered.

  He closed the door and joggled it. “It sure seems like it’s locked tightly. Hey, I have an idea.” He grabbed a pencil from the table and pushed it through the bars of my cage, pushing it against the inside of the lock.

  This was one smart man.

  He pushed it and nothing happened until he twisted it from the inside, the way I do. Of course, the door swung right open.

  “That’s it! It looks as if it’s locked on the outside, but Humphrey can open it. I wonder how many times he’s done that?”