My Pandemic Hamster Taught Me My Life Is Something

My value has always been in my work and my altruism.

When successful, my work. When unsuccessful, my altruism. In the pandemic, when work was cancelled and productivity meant little to nothing, I leaned hard into altruism. Fortunately, there was a lot of volunteering, donating, protesting to do. First food banks then defunding the police then supporting Land Back then flipping red places blue then back to my first love, concern over the environment and underserved teenage girls. I’ve joined so many action squads and email chains and signed so many petitions and called so many officials and bled cash all year. I worked too, but, of course, I've had 98 nos and 2 yeses since March 2020 (I keep a list). My worth as an artist floats low, like a balloon meandering around the kitchen several days after the party. Besides, it’s always been true that no matter how impressive my latest project is, it’s fleeting. My worth as a good citizen, completely unclear. No matter how much sweat I put into my community efforts, the difficulties for those in need rage on. Sure I helped those few old folks find water in frozen Texas, but if I hadn’t, would it have simply been someone else? Okay, I do what Sunrise newsletters tell me to, but will the Green Deal actually happen, and if it does will it be what we need it to be?

I felt bad. Often. “Worthless” my therapist pinned, and of course, she was right. What is the point of being alive in this boxy apartment? Am I even alive in this boxy apartment? I count who would notice my absence from Zooms. I ask what the future has planned for me and if I even want it at all, if I could even stomach it. These feelings used to rise in me before, but then I’d get busy and forget. Now in my one-bedroom strictly following CDC guidelines, there’s no such thing as busy or forget. And one day busy would return, but now I was too wise to forget, I worried.

 

I was tasked by aforementioned therapist to find worth in myself for myself. I couldn’t. The whole thing is were social creatures, I’d argue. And now I’m not, and so what am I even doing being alive at all? She’d disagree without any logical explanation, which made me insane. A currency of nothing? Not in my deep-seeded capitalist Christian values, ma’am.

 

Then one day I thought my hamster died.

 

She hadn’t stirred all morning, so I started mussing with her toys. That usually gets her to at least start sniffing around. But no, nothing. I poked her nest with a chew stick. Surely she’d nibble it. But no. I was overcome with fear. Fingers shaking, I started peeling back layers of shavings until I finally saw a patch of her fluff. Still. And then she scratched her ear and I sat down, on the ground, in relief.

 

I adopted her March 19th. She’s chunky and extremely well-behaved. I got her an hour before LA shut down. I raced out from my eight-day quarantine to save at least one critter from the impending closed doors. (Look at me, trying to justify my worth by saving a life UGH). The rep told me she’d been waiting for a ham parent four months. I held her little round body and fell in love.

 

It’s funny to have a hamster of all pets right now. I’m locked inside a small space, so I bought a smaller space to lock a different living being inside. That said, the great thing about having a Syrian hamster in a pandemic is that they’re loners. No guilt on me for lack of rodent friends, lack of cage-mates. She doesn’t want anything but to occasionally come up from her pile, eat a berry, and burrow again. I play with her once a day, which she is indifferent to.

What does she do for society? Nothing. Would she offer aid in an emergency, like a bird? No. Can she accomplish tasks like dogs? No. Do I even get the benefit of knowing she likes me, like how even the grumpiest cats nuzzle their owners? Absolutely not. My hamster would probably never wonder about me again if I left a robot in charge of feeding her, and yet I treat her like a tiny god. I obsess over her every scuttle and jump for joy when she likes a new chew toy. I marvel at her tunnels and observe all the wood sticks in new places each morning. If I hear her drinking water, I literally sprint from my desk to watch. This hamster has my whole heart for no reason other than she is alive, and being alive is enough.