R.I.P. Rocky

On the day that the rest of the world was mourning Farah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, our family was mourning the passing of our hamster, Rocky.

Rocky was young - only about 8 months old - but had very recently exhibited signs of illness, including lethargy, bloating and constipation. We believe he did not suffer long.

Nine-year old Molly clearly was the most devastated as Rocky belonged to her and although she knows people who have died, this was her first experience with death on a more personal level. I give her a lot of credit. Initially she did not want to see Rocky's body, but she eventually changed her mind and actually petted him one last time. As one might imagine, there has been a lot of crying in our home the last couple of days.

He died on Thursday and that evening I wrapped him in white Bounty paper towels and he lay in state overnight in a Kenneth Cole shoe box. On Friday afternoon, we held a brief service in which we all spoke about how much we loved Rocky and what he meant to us. I read a poem we had found on the web written by another young girl who had lost her hamster. Rocky then had a burial at sea (or at least, at Hudson River).

We were all affected by this cute little fellow whom everyone that met him adored. As much as a hamster can have a personality, he certainly had one, and even though all the books we read said that they don't like to be handled closely, he was most comfortable in Molly's cupped hands and sometimes even fell asleep in her lap while she watched TV.

Molly asked if we could get another hamster in the fall. My first question was, "Do we name him Rocky 2?" And will the next ones be 3, 4 and 5 - or should we start calling them Rambo?

Rest in Peace Rocky. We will miss you.