Not the cats.

Alice the hamster went missing for an unknown amount of time in a house teeming with five felines.

On Friday evening, I put the hamster in her ball, as I do or the J-Man does most every evening, for a little exercise. Upon returning Alice to her abode, I closed the cage.

I KNOW I latched that cage. Why wouldn’t I? The cage doesn’t even close unless you firmly latch it, and I don’t think I’d be dense enough to leave a cage door swinging open.

On Saturday night, I did not let Alice out, because I was going out. The J-Man did not let her out, either, because he had a friend over. Clearly we are neglectful pet owners. Shame shield.

On Sunday, in my mildly hungover state, I happened to glance at the cage. The door was hanging open. “Oh, shit,” I thought. “They left Alice in the fucking ball!!”

However, Alice was not in the fucking ball. She was not anywhere. She was gone.

The five cats stretched and yawned and licked themselves in various places. Did they look sleepier than usual due to a nice shared meal of obese rodent, or was it just me?

I screamed for my mother (apparently one is never too old to scream “MOM!” while in a sticky situation) and began to search for Alice.

We grabbed a couple of flashlights and started to look under every available surface. Now, you have to understand that The TranceCave: Part Deux is pretty large. There’s a huge family room, my room, a bathroom, a big utility room, a few closets, a large pantry, all of which could have been housing an extremely fat yet still relatively small hamster.

We looked for two hours. Nothing.

The J-Man was out with my father and was not yet aware of the jailbreak, but when he arrived home, I had to tell him.

“Well, we’ll find her, won’t we??”

I honestly didn’t know, but we kept looking.

I called my dad and asked for his advice, and he simply said, “Well, if it’s dead, you’ll start to smell something in a few days.”

Nice.

I had a seizure and passed out for about four hours, and then woke up in time to hang out and look for another hour and put the nervous J-Man to bed.

“The cats are going to eat her.”

“Cats don’t actually eat their prey. They just kill it and play with it.”

That was so the wrong thing to say that I could have stuffed my foot straight down my esophagus.

After calming J. down and getting him off to bed, I looked a little more and decided to head off to bed myself. I had my iPod headphones on (lately I fall asleep to Iron and Wine) and the covers adjusted and was ready to turn off the bedside lamp and drift off to dreamland, when a parade of cats tripped quickly into the bedroom.

They moved in a straight line, heads down, almost as if they were following- OH MY GOD.

I jumped out of bed, iPod flying, literally flinging cats behind me, and saw poor Alice in the corner behind the dresser.

“Alice,” I said, because hamsters always come when called.

“Alice.”

Alice tentatively stepped forward.

I am not making this up, I swear it on my remaining good eye.

I brightened. “Alice!”

She moved a little closer, beginning that wobbly hamster walk.

“Al-ice!”

Closer. I was practically peeing myself that this was happening. If I could have called Animal Planet, I would have.

Finally she was close enough to grab, so I grabbed…

…and she dashed away.

Then I got the bright idea to shake a bottle of Lamictal (seizure pills), thinking that it would sound like her food.

Hey, it works for the cats.

It didn’t work for Alice.

After about a half an hour of calling and cajoling and moving the dresser and having her just go underneath the dresser and swearing and then apologizing to the hamster for swearing because hey, who knows what they know, I heard a scratching.

She was using her tiny little claws to climb up a pillow I had stuffed on the other side of the dresser to make sure that she didn’t escape. I let let her climb up, and then I grabbed her.

Hamster capture successful.

I put her back in her cage, gave her fresh food and water, and a carrot and a Cheeto for good measure.

Then I went to bed and slept the sound sleep of the successful hamster hunter.

Seriously, though, that little fucker has nine lives. To survive, possibly since Friday night, in a basement with five cats?? Good Lord.

And how was YOUR weekend?

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