Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Rescued!

I’d just seen Molly and the girls off Monday morning when Rebecca came bounding down the stairs in tears. “Mom, have you seen Rascle?!” I don’t make a point of playing with her pet hamster and hadn’t paid a lick of attention to him all morning. “Um, no, babe, I haven’t.”

“He’s not in his cage!” cried the nine year old who was struggling to hold it together but was teetering on the edge of hysterics. At that point I panicked.

There has never been a more loved hamster in the world. Ever. Rebecca cherishes that hamster and to think he’d gotten out never to be found… it was not a happy thought. I had a flashback to when one of my hamsters got loose when I was about Rebecca’s age. We located Jezebel (no, I do not know why I named my hamster that) by the smell behind the stove. The thought of Rebecca smelling a dead Rascle was more than I could bear.

We got a flashlight and began searching behind dressers and night stands and in our closets. I looked behind the bookcase, under beds, under all the stuff she keeps in her room. Michael was still sleeping but I burst in there, flashlight blazing, looking under anything and everything. If Rascle had gotten into Amy’s room we’d never find him under all the clothes and books and makeup and who knows what else so I didn’t even bother with her room.

All the time I was looking all I could say was, “Please, Jesus, help us find Rascle. Please, Jesus, help us find Rascle!” I kept praying and praying and praying, but was becoming more and more discouraged as the minutes passed.

When I looked in the kids’ bathroom I didn’t see any sign of him; I opened the door to the linen closet in the bathroom, pulled out the dirty clothes hamper and what did I see? Rascle, perched on a red towel, nibbling away at a sock. I have never been more thrilled to find a rodent in my house.

I yelled to Rebecca, who was still looking in her room, “I FOUND HIM!” She came running in, scooped him up and we both kissed him on his head and hugged each other. And as I hugged her and scratched Rascle behind the ears I whispered, “Thank you, God! Thank you, God!”



Rascle and his ball
Picture by Molly
(And yes, that is how Rebecca spells Rascle)