“Stop whining,” grumbled Sir Laughalot from his perch on the giant purple, plastic wheel.
“At least you don’t have to run for a living. I am a haemathermal hamster who is extremely habile, but hamshackled to a wheel. Fortunately for you, I do not suffer from halitosis. Enough h-words for you, or should I throw in horometry, hoyden or hortatory for good measure?”
“What are you so upset about? Have you eaten all the h-pages from the dictionary again, they are not strawberries you know?” I asked, dreading the answer. Lately everyone seemed to be having horrescent days.
“How would you feel after 46 years of running on the same wheel to keep your owner’s mind turning over and all this without a word of thanks I might add and so what if I did eat the pages,” he said; his mouth turning upside down and sliding off his face to land in a sad looking puddle in the wood shavings. I leant forward to dust it off and place it back where it belonged.
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, “would you like a vacation, somewhere warm, like Honolulu?”
“No, I don’t want to miss out on all the fun and besides which, who is going to keep you from becoming a Neanderthal?”
He was right of course; I would never be able to part with his pudgy little body and his comical whiskers. Sir Laughalot kept me sane and happy. He was a humorous little fellow and kept the dark at bay with the sharp electrical sparks that spat angrily from his wheel.
Watch these hamsters spinning around. LOL