The Short Sweet Life of Rhino Christie

I'm sure you have all grown rather weary of hearing about the Great Christmas Hamster Debacle but I'm pretty sure this is going to be the last time I write of such. If not, please have me taken out back and shot. So, Jack and I are driving around yesterday "enjoying" the last vestiges of Winter Break and wrapping up its lively turn of events with conversation. Obviously the rather relevant subject of Rhino came up. Jack says, "Well, at least he had a good life." WHAT!?!?!?! Slam on brakes and whip head around. He DID NOT have a good life. He was born in a freakin' hamster mill and was subsequently shipped to PETSMART, where he sat in a pile of cedar shavings while a bunch of snot-nosed kids pressed their faces up against the glass. Then I came along, said, "I'll take that one" and he was plucked from his crappy habitat by an awkward but well-informed teen named Ben and placed in a styrofoam soup cup 'cause it was Christmas and as there was a run on hamsters this year, they were out of the designated carriers. Then, on the way home, some law-abiding fucktard in front of me decided that yellow means STOP and the soup cup and its contents went flying off of the passenger seat. I'm sure that was relaxing. He made it to the Taj-mah-hamsta eventually and did enjoy an approximately three-day period wherein he ran on his little wheel and nibbled on corn and had what I would gather is a pretty decent hamster life. But then you and your sidekick decided that Mom was full of shit and that Rhino actually SHOULD be liberated from his cage. 'Cause you know, hamsters aren't tiny and fast at all. And now, he's currently rotting in some unknown area of your bedroom. So no, I'm pretty sure he didn't have a good life. I'm not one for guilt trips (LIE.....I actually am.....) but little dude needs to know that life is not a casual affair and should be treated with respect. Ding-DANG, y'all.