Routes of Escape by Mukta Singh-Zocchi

One November afternoon some years back, our daughter Priyamvada, convinced us to stop over at a pet store in Santa Monica just to look at the pets, not get any. We didn’t know then we would leave the store with Tara in a cardboard box with us.

We browsed through the store, looking at the puppies and the kittens and at their vast collection of exotic fish. Then, Ram, my husband, stopped in front of a big cage.

“What do we have here?” He looked inside curiously.

“These are Russian dwarf hamsters. They make great pets.” We were informed.

“Yes, but what’s the matter with them?” Ram asked and all of us huddled to look.

The cage looked quite empty, save for one tiny hamster, a fur-ball no bigger than an inch. The igloo at the center was stuffed with more furry creatures and in its only entrance – a circular hole a couple inches in diameter – were crammed five or six hamster butts.

Hamsters being nocturnal animals, these little critters were sleeping, it turned out.

“Looks a little inconvenient in there,” Ram muttered.

We turned our attention towards the hamster that had not joined his buddies ‘in bed’. He had been running the wheel. Seeing us, he had stopped and now, he was looking back at us. It seemed weird that he could see that far. He seemed smart and curious and not shy at all. I don’t know what came over us. We made a unanimous decision to bring him home.