Friday, November 17th, 2006 • 2 Comments on Just Call Her Sprocket
I have a pet gerbil. I’m not a big fan of gerbils (they move too fast and look too much like rats—I prefer the fluffier, tail-less, slower moving hamster), but I inherited a gerbil last August when one of my storytime kids at the library moved to Missouri. His mother was quite insistent that the gerbil was not making the trip and was ready to give the poor thing to anyone who would take her. She even suggested we “raffle” her off to one of the other kids.
So, I took the gerbil. She had a rough time prior to joining my menagerie. She was attacked by her litter mates and still has a bald patch of scarred skin to prove it. She was dropped by her owner (the little boy, not the mother) and no longer likes to be held. Unlike every single gerbil (and most hamsters) I’ve seen, she has no interest in running on her exercise wheel. I can’t remember what her original name was—Spike? Tiger? Killer?—but it was something a little boy would think was cool.
I’ve discovered she likes cheese (especially grilled cheese), chocolate (in small quantities) and raisins. She also likes to chew up paper towel tubes to make her nest. And, as of today, she likes the little woven straw ball I put in her cage months ago. I guess she got cold last night.
I introduce to you, Miss Geraldine Sprocket, survivor: