General Manners: Entertain your pet hamster.

I seem to have watched a lot of television while I was holding a hamster:

Suburban Chicago, February 1964. The hamster doesn't mind balancing on my hand.

It's a good idea to keep an eye on a hamster because you never know what kind of mischief it otherwise will find:

Suburban Chicago, February 1964. Do you know what kind of books your hamster is reading?

Hamster in a Sweater

My first pet was a hamster. My first hobby was sweater knitting.

So here's a hamster in a hand-knit sweater.

Do you think I'll blend in if I sit next to the shoes?

One of our hamsters seeks cover near the Lithuanian wooden tchotchkes.

The hamster probably is hiding from me. If I get my hands on a hamster, I'll want it to balance on my head:

Or dance with me, at my Rec Room play table:

Suburban Chicago, 1964. These are snapshots of everyday life in our Rec Room. Tatjana's black sewing machine (the "White" brand) is behind me, and I sit on one of my painted chairs.

The Rabbit

I mentioned once that for a short time, we kept a wild rabbit as a house pet. Someone assumed the rabbit's mother had abandoned it in nearby lawn nest. The mother probably was away from the nest, getting food.

At first, the rabbit was adorable. But the rabbit was undomesticated, and once it grew, we no longer could keep it safely in the house. It would not be housebroken, and it bit people. At my Mom's urging, my Dad eventually took the rabbit to the Hal Tyrell Trailside Museum. At that time, the museum accepted baby animals.

Food for thought, as spring approaches.

Suburban Chicago, June 1964. The little thumper was quite cute when he arrived in our Rec Room.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1964. We assumed the rabbit and the hamster would cohabit in harmony.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1964. The hamster did not like the rabbit's presence in its territory.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1964. The rabbit brought out my Mom's gentle side.

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Suburban Chicago, June 1964. I was sorry to see the little guy go.

Every child wants a pet, but hamsters make terrible pets.

Hamsters can't be housebroken. They nest is nasty sawdust. They are nocturnal rodents. They bite. If you have more than one hamster, then the hamsters will fight. For example, we had two hamsters at one time, "Shakespeare" and "Hamlet." Shakespeare decapitated Hamlet. Although this sad event led to many family jokes about Shakespeare not liking his work, the incident had a profound effect on me, a thin-skinned toddler.

My parents eventually wised up and got a Poodle.

Suburban Chicago, November 1960. My Mom introduces me to my first pet, a hamster. We are sitting in the living room. The piano is behind me, to my left. My Mom has returned from work because she is wearing her "stay-at-home" clothes, namely, a skirt, stockings, and sweater. She often put on an apron when she came back from the office because she'd wash the dishes after my paternal Grandmother, Tatjana, cooked dinner.

Many women back then wore aprons around the house, but few women spent the day doing what my Mom did: practicing medicine.

Pausing for the hamster.

Suburban Chicago, April 1960. Mom takes a break from her reading to admire the hamster again.

Airing out the hamster.

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Suburban Chicago, April 1962. Mom sometimes allowed me to play with the hamster in the living room.

I was there, too.

Suburban Chicago, June 1964. Yesterday's post about the rabbit reminded me that we have a similar, close-up shot of the rabbit's companion, the hamster.

The Rec Room's cherry paneling is the background for this photo.

How's that introduction going?

Suburban Chicago, November 1960. Dad checks in as I get acquainted with the hamster.

What are you watching?

Suburban Chicago, February 9, 1964. The hamster keeps me company again as I watch The Beatles make their debut on The Ed Sullivan Show.

"Tiny Hamsters Eating Tiny Burritos."

I can't resist a hamster:

Let's get some fresh air.

Suburban Chicago, June 1960. A child likes to take her pet outside—even if the pet is a hamster.

Balancing

I wrote earlier that my Mom spent a lot of time on the telephone, talking with patients. I'm not surprised that we have dozens of photos of my Mom chatting on the phone.

Mom usually knitted when she spoke with patients. She kept a phone rest on her shoulder so that she'd have both hands free.

This photo is a little different from the others because not only is Mom balancing her knitting—and a two-color project, at that—on her lap, but she's also managing the non-stop motion machine that is a pet hamster.

Suburban Chicago, April 1964. Mom's on the phone, and she's sitting in the master bedroom chair. It was an ugly chair with blue, floral upholstery and a gilded frame. Mom's in her "stay-at-home" clothes, namely, a simple, paisley blouse and a pencil skirt.

Wooden-Shoe Reunion

Suburban Chicago, February 1964. The hamster seems to be steering toward the television.

Thrill Ride

Suburban Chicago, 1962. I take the hamster out for a spin. This is one of the photos that my Dad decided deserved placement in the "little Irene" album.

I give the hamster a break.

Suburban Chicago, February 1964. We'll have time to dance later.