Sparky the hamster had to be put down at 9.05 this morning. No.1 son is very upset, understandably, but the alternative - an operation, then going to the vet to get the wound dressed every two days for anything up to six weeks - was simply not an option for an elderly hamster. There has been a funeral down by the hedge at the end of our garden. We were asked if we wanted to take Sparky home to bury him, and no.1 son decided he did want to. The most distressing part was when we were asked back in to get Sparky. We had assumed that "being put to sleep" meant that Sparky's eyes would be closed. They weren't.
I've got some cold-y virus, so have all the boys, and it's a damp, miserable morning. We're going to have tea with one of the godmothers this afternoon, which they're looking forward to. Walking the dog (the highlight of the visit) won't be much fun in the rain, but maybe the boys won't mind. Meanwhile, Super Spouse remains the only healthy one. This can't last. (He would have sympathetic PMT if it was biologically possible - I never feel ill but he has whatever it is, worse!)