Sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I sit on my bed and have a chat, a heart-to-heart if you will, with my pet hamster Donny. Sitting here telling you that, I guess it sounds kind of sad. What kind of loser sits on his bed and talks to a hamster? Well, you’re looking at him, but I honestly think it’s therapeutic, in a way. I mean, I can remember when I was nine years old, all broken up because I’d just been to the mall to visit Santa and he told me I was a rotten, pansy, good-for-nothing sissy boy who’d never even talk to a girl, let alone—well, that’s a story for another day. But I talked to Donny’s great-grandpa, Jed, and he cheered me right up. Fluffy little guy was just so perky and stupid that I couldn’t resist smiling. Well, it turns out that Santa was right about the girls, but I can still talk to Donny about the good, the bad, and the ugly, you know? We chat about my failures and my… other failures, and times when I’ve screwed up, and my mistakes, and times I’ve been snubbed, and times I’ve been beat up, and I can tell you right now that nothing, NOTHING cheers you up like a hamster. When you’re really feeling down and you wish your hamster could talk, you can just plop him on a treadmill and watch him run for a while, and it’s just like he’s saying, “Look, see? My life sucks too. I’m running on a freaking metal circle with no clear purpose except so some neurotic teenager can watch me and feel better about himself.” Hamster empathy—it’s so much more real.

Anyway, the other day I was telling Donny about my life. Donny comes from a long line of therapeutic hamsters, and I think he’s the cream of the hamster crop, so to speak. So when I sat down and explained my latest crisis, he knew exactly what to do: he made those little squeaky noises that so clearly tell you “I care” and wiggled his nose a little bit, like a paralyzed bunny trying pathetically to regain control of himself. Yes, my soul was in agony, endlessly miserable anguish that felt like my heart and soul were ripping in two or even three, but one session with Donny and I could feel my insides mending themselves. “You see,” I told Donny, “I don’t know what to do with my life. There are so many directions I could go, and I don’t have a compass! And even if I did, who’s to say north is better than south, or east-southeast, or just UP?” Sensing that Donny wanted to speak, I put him on the metal circle. He ran for a while, then majestically scurried and leaped off the table. I barely caught him in time—if not for me, he’d be a red glob of hamster meat in my trash can, and the therapeutic hamster dynasty would have ended. But the message was clear—I needed to visit a Hindu temple. And he was right! On my way back from the temple, I saw a billboard advertisement for Pet Psychic classes. Now if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s talking to hamsters, as good old Donny obviously understood! Now my life is on track again and it’s all thanks to Donny, who, I’ve noticed, responds to Miracle Hamster of Glory.

The really great thing is that Donny is just a tiny little guy, and I can carry him around with me if I need to. Yeah, I get some weird looks when he pokes his head out of my shirt pocket, but he’s saved my sanity more than once! For example, I had his dad with me at my eighth grade Halloween party, when my male Social Studies teacher decided to dress up as a classical Roman statue. He didn’t really have the muscles for it, and if he’d only taped on a bigger leaf, he might not have been fired, and I definitely wouldn’t have needed hamster therapy… and in case you’re wondering, it’s a good idea to check and see if you’re allergic to rhododendron before putting it anywhere close to sensitive areas of your body. Yes, Mr. Heaton taught me a little more than history that year, and without Donny’s dad Milko I might have lost it. But here I am today, completely sane. Who can I thank but the hamsters? Besides, and I hate to say it but I have to be honest, when you’re really hungry, it’s good to have a snack on hand.

I’m sorry; I guess I’ve rambled a little. I didn’t really intend to reminisce about naked schoolteachers or my new job when I started talking about Donny. I just wanted to tell you about the many advantages of hamster therapy. But don’t take my word for it, try carrying your own around for a couple weeks. Solves all your problems, you’ll see. And don’t forget the barbeque sauce.