In my blog, I did a whole series about my life as a girl-dad.

Perhaps you read one of them.

Hopefully you read all 8 of them.

Yes – eight.

If you did – then thank you.

There are no prizes, but huge respect.

But lately I’ve just been having thoughts that keep me up at night.

I posted one the other day, and it was “Who is more wet?”.

I won’t spoil it for you – you have to read that bad boy on it’s own.

I sleep with my phone on my night stand and I’ll grab it when I have strange thoughts and open up my “notes” app and write down those thoughts.  That way I can remember them and when I’m in front of my laptop I can go into more depth.

In advance – you’re welcome.

I’ve had several cats in my life.

My wife and I have also had several cats together.

Love cats.

I love their personality.

I love their independence.

I’ve never sought out a cat.

I’ve always lived under the premise that you don’t look for a cat, a cat finds you.

Stray cats are everywhere.

Dogs too.

Now, there are many different ways to get a dog as a pet that don’t require you to bring home a stray dog.

So with the premise that dogs and cats are in plentiful supply and acquiring one is relatively easy, what about hamsters?

I mean, sure, you can go out and get a hamster at a pet store.

But what if I wanted a stray hamster?

How might one get a hamster out in the wild and bring it home?

And, um ….. where might I need to go to get this hamster?

Turns out, here in Milton, Delaware, my only option is still the pet store.
Which got me wondering.

We all know where to buy a hamster. But where was the first hamster hanging out before some kid named Tyler begged his parents for one?

Turns out… the desert.

And not even a desert here in America.

Nope.

If you really wanted a native hamster, you’d have to go to Europe or Asia.

Turns out most native hamsters are in Syria or Turkey.

Think about that for a second.

Sure, they have the oil, but jeez, they also have the hamsters.

The same animal that spends its life sleeping on fluffy wood shavings, running on a little plastic wheel, and staring judgmentally at us through the bars of a cage… is originally a desert animal.

I wasn’t expecting that.

Somewhere, thousands of years ago, a tiny little fuzzball was digging tunnels in the Syrian countryside, stuffing seeds into its cheeks like a tiny furry prepper, and trying not to become lunch for an owl.

Fast-forward a few thousand years…

Now he’s named Mr. Nibbles.

He has an air-conditioned bedroom.

He eats yogurt drops.

His biggest predator is a three-year-old who hugs too hard.

What a life.

And think about the first person who looked at one and thought:

“You know what? I bet this thing would make a terrific roommate.”

Not a dog.

Not a cat.

A nocturnal potato with legs that stores groceries in its face.

Sometimes I think we’ve domesticated animals simply because we got bored.

Still… I have to hand it to hamsters.

They went from surviving in the desert to living rent-free in suburban America.

Honestly?

That’s a pretty impressive career change.

Somewhere in Syrian desert, there’s probably a wild hamster looking at a pet hamster that sent him a postcard thinking, “You have central air? Lucky little jerk.”

Yes, this is where my mind wanders.

• Ramblings
• That Guy