When Bill and I were in high school and just friends I had been at his house playing pool with a bunch of our other friends. He lived in a large ranch style home with his room at the end of a long hall. The bathroom in the hall also opened up to his bedroom.
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I was born nosey. I wandered in to his room where I discovered a small hamster cage. I tapped on the cage. No movement. Hmmm. I picked up a pencil and poked around in the cedar shavings. Uh Oh.
I called out down the hall. "Hey man, I think your rat is dead." ........In my defense I had no idea that he was so sentimental about hamsters. Or I would have never said a word.
Which is why years later when we were house sitting for his parents and their animal menagerie including Bill's dog Peppy which he'd had since 3rd grade and I went to let her out of the laundry room to go outside and couldn't open the door I knew there was a problem. I leaned against the door and shoved it open and her body stiff with rigor mortis slid across the floor. All 4 paws in mid-air. Sh*t ! Recalling how distraught he was over his hamster I realized I would have to handle this with kid-gloves. So I went back into the kitchen and told him he needed to check on his dog. She seemed to be having difficulty breathing.
I am a chicken.
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