Bacon.

My hamster died yesterday. I had two, and Bacon was the first ever. Regardless of how much he tended to bite my friends, he loved me, and frankly that was all that mattered to me. When I was going through a crisis with my living situation Fall of Sophomore year, I just snapped one day and made Hannah drive me to the pet store and I left with my white & tan fancy dwarf hamster. I don't know why it works, but I'm 100% positive that pet therapy can bring anyone back from the dead. I know when I'm on my deathbed, if someone brought me a puppy to just fall asleep in my hopsital bed with me, I'd hang on for another year.

I needed a friend, I needed someone in the room with me when I fell asleep at night, and Bacon was that and more to me. He made people smile, me the most, he was an escape artist that never actually succeeded, and he was my good feeling. I needed something soft to let me take care of it and love it and pet it, and he fit the bill. Kyle even chastised me later that night I got him with a phrase that will stick with me forever: "You can't go buying a hamster every time you get stressed out." Not that that stopped me from getting Eggs a few months later.

I remember one day I was in the shower in Hubbard and we had a fire drill. I ran from the shower, threw on my bathrobe over my wrapped towel, and immediately grabbed up Baky and hid him in my pocket. When RAs checked my room, they were none the wiser. From that point on, I made sure Amy (my RA across the hall) always knew he was there, so she would be the one to check my room and not get me in trouble. She always did have a soft spot for that little furball.

Sarah Manny did too. She hammie-sat the Baconator for me when I went to Canterbury, and took fantastic care of him for me. She was never afraid of his chompers.

After Bacon attempted living with Eggs, babies were made (although they probably were not Bacon's after all) and the entire breakfast clan had to be separated. Benedict, Waffle, Eggo, Brekky (aka Breakfast), and Patrick all moved on, and I was left with my two little fluffy loves.

After a saddening fall over winter break, Bacon was never the same. He was slow, twitchy, and breathed really hard. About a month ago, I knew he wasn't going to be with us much longer. He just wasn't eating or drinking properly, he sat up in my hand and didn't move when I held him (definitely not like his nature), and he opened his eyes very slowly to the point I was sure one was stuck shut at one point. I am glad he's not in pain anymore, and I know it was for the best, so I can't be sad.

"He's just a hamster, they don't live long, they're cheap and easily replacable." Yeah, sure that's true, but he was my hamster. He made me happy at a time when I was confused, miserable, and sad. I couldn't be more thankful for that little furball.