This summer, my 13-year-old granddaughter, Lily, came to stay with us for a few weeks.
We were all excited to have her, and she seemed just as thrilled to be here.
Lily has always been a sweet, well-behaved girl, so I didn’t expect any surprises when she arrived. But boy, was I wrong.
The day she got here, I helped her carry her suitcase up to the guest room.
She was running around, exploring the house, so I figured I’d help her unpack and make her feel at home. I opened her suitcase, expecting to find the usual stuff—clothes, maybe some books, and her favorite stuffed animal.
But when I unzipped that suitcase, I almost DROPPED it.
Right on top of her neatly folded clothes and a pile of books was a small hamster cage—occupied. A very startled, very fluffy hamster stared back at me through the plastic walls, its whiskers twitching in alarm. I gasped so hard I nearly gave myself hiccups.
Without even thinking twice, I whipped out my phone and called Lily’s mom, my daughter Susan.
“Susan, did you know Lily brought a… friend with her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm but failing miserably. I could hear Susan’s confusion through the phone.
“A friend? Who are you talking about, Mom?” she asked.
“I’m talking about a little ball of fur with two beady eyes and a twitchy nose.
It’s in Lily’s suitcase!” I exclaimed.
There was a pause on the other end, followed by a long sigh. “I had no idea,” Susan said, sounding both irritated and a touch amused. “She’s been asking for a pet hamster for months, but we told her it wasn’t the right time.
I certainly didn’t buy her one.”
“Well, it’s definitely here,” I said. “We’ll talk about it when you have a minute to spare, but right now, I need to figure out what to do with this hamster.”
I hung up and turned around to find Lily standing in the doorway, looking both embarrassed and worried. She wrung her hands together and spoke in a small, trembling voice.
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