She had too many critters. They made her crazy, and she'd had it.
Once she started with the fly, it got easier...
It all started with five gerbils, whom I stole from my husband.
Let me tell you about Ashlee. She's my most prolific gerbil. She also makes the most beautiful gerbils, too. She makes silver, blond, peach, gray, and nearly white.
Imagine my joy...when she had nine.
Nine.
All healthy, perfect and booful, just like their mother and their father, Chester. He's all silver and quite a looker. Months went by and no gerbils. I thought maybe Ashlee was past her prime, enjoying growing old with our lovely Mr. Chester. Greg Graziani has a theory on barometric pressure, which I now totally endorse, and African-originating animals. If it rains, it pours...
animals of African origin.
I have six gerbil enclosures. I have lots and lots of silver ones. In fact, when Ashlee got tired of her first set of offspring vying for her mate, I pulled her out (she can kick some serious gerbil butt) and put her in a cage of her own. Gerbils, however, do not like being alone. They get depressed, and a lone gerbil is a mean gerbil. I've heard many times that someone bought a gerbil and took it home, only to have it bite the heck out of them. There's a reason for that. They need another gerbil or two.
So, I introduced Ashlee to Chester. They took an instant liking to one another. And there was peace amongst the gerbils and Ashlee's former cagemates did this:
In unison, aaaaaaaaaaw. Cuteness to make us hurl.
Where was I? Oh. Nine. Nine precious little ones. When their fur grew, we went crazy. We had another snowball looking thing. More silvers. More blondes. And one little Chester Jr.
Who's been nothing but a thorn in my side.
I've had baby gerbils in this cage before, no problems. Heck, Ashlee's first litter resided in this cage. These little guys, though, are Houdini people. Several got out the other day, but were tame enough for me to put my hand on the floor and they crawled on it.
Not with Chester Jr. Wood floors + knees + fanny in air + mild profanity + begging a 5-cm gerbil = very funny, glad no one was here to witness it.
I got him back.
I have nowhere else to put them, but young gerbils grow quickly. Feed and distract has been my attack with extra food and constant supply of what KitKat calls "gerbil crack," i.e., paper products, which they will shred endlessly.
Except Chester Jr.
This runt won't grow. I have the gooseneck lamp on my desk trained on the cage, which is on a medium-sized bookcase. Why? I see movement out of the corner of my eye, and I catch little Mr. Chester Jr in the act, hold out my hand, he crawls on it, and I put him back.
For two days, no Junior looking down upon me as I worked.
I heard something rattle around under my desk behind my under-desk plastic stackable drawers. A paper not quite shut in the bottom drawer bounced.
I counted the gerbils in the cage.
Yep, Junior, out to terrorize again.
I waited. I felt him cross my foot, but he darted behind another bookcase. Patiently, I waited. He never goes far.
Fur against my foot again. I look down.
It's not Chester Jr. It's the CAT.
This is trouble.
Okay, maybe not. Mr. Purr likes to play with his food and then leave it after he loves it to death...
He won't kill it...
He's smaller than me...
He fits in those little nooks...
So I let Purr do the stalking.
Mr. Sapphire woke up, and I'm thinking I'm finally getting him back for the Moonlight escapade. I've got the gooseneck lamp following the path of the gerbil and the cat. My workstation is comprised of two desks sitting perpendicular and a narrow bookcase sitting at the junction.
The gerbil ran from one side of a desk leg to the other, and the cat, stuck by the bookcase, leapt back and forth to each side...
Then shut off my computer.
My work was saved, though. Lucked out there.
For 15 minutes, Purr and Junior went back and forth by the desk leg. Then, Junior decided to take a narrow path behind the other desk and make a run for under the bed.
Mr. Purr is 18 pounds or better. Mr. Purr does not do well running under the bed, but he tried his best.
His head bumping on the box springs, to the head, to the side, to the head, to the base, and then he shot out, hot on the trail of a little gray gerbil, who went right back to the spot where it all began.
Good thing I hadn't turned my computer back on, yet.
I put a crick in the gooseneck lamp's neck.
Finally, Purr tired the poor gerbil out. The gerbil came close, I scooped him up, and put him back in the cage, with more food.
I keep checking for Houdini to reappear. Purr's still trying to figure out what happened to his playmate.
In the shadows of the dark, I see the little gerbils climb. I want to take time and figure out HOW they're getting out, but I already spent a good half hour watching Purr corner Junior until I got him. Safe and sound (for now), Purr's left to patrol Mr. Sapphire's feeder mice, trying to get a piece of that action, too.
And I really entertained thoughts about breeding lion-head rabbits. What was I thinking?
