This week, we take care of our friend’s flat and its content: plants and a hamster which fulfills every mathematical criteria of a perfect ball (with fur).

Part of the instructions are as follows:

“If you happen to  run into a fat moth, a wireworm or a less hairy caterpillar (cockroaches and small, delicate slugs are great too), feel free to serve it to the hamster. Sometimes the cockroaches are a bit fast for him though. He doesn’t like beetles too much, spiders neither. They are probably too bitter. Basic rule: the animal to hunt/eat should not be bigger than half the size of the hamster. Grubs are critical too.”

Yesterday we found a small bug in our flat. The perfect dinner for the hamster. Karsten caught and served it…and I spent  the rest of the evening lamenting the destiny of the poor thing. There it was, unsuspecting, doing no harm on our kitchen table, and before it could say knife it was fed alive to a monstrous creature ten times bigger than itself. Although according to Karsten it had a perfect chance – if it would have lasted longer than a minute with the hamster, he would have taken it out again. I also shortly imagined the feeling of being crushed by big teeth while you can still move, but that was too much for a peaceful evening, so I quickly stopped.

Gee, children really do mess with your emotional limits…..