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Goodbye sweet little Socksie. He was a little black hamster with white paws, his little socks. Demure, but full of spirit, determined to succeed as a ham in a ham's world. He caught my eye in a pet shop and from the start, I knew what I was letting myself in for. While his black and white brothers dozed in a heap in their houses, Socks was climbing up everything, falling down and going straight back again to carry on climbing. After scaling the water bottle, he turned his attention to the houses and started climbing onto them. I was his ticket out of their. He came over to the front of the cage and started biting the edge, squinting up at me with a crooked grin. Hello Mom he said, my name's Socks. I bought a cage and more accessories than I could carry, carried them home, and came back the next day for Socks 
Some people bring home their hamster and hardly ever see him. I think for all of our time together, except when he was very old at the end of his life, Socks was out every night, desperately wanting out of cage time. Initially this was at about 8 or 9pm, a reasonable hour, but after the two guinea pigs moved in, Socks favoured the small hours. Some times recurrent ear infections and blocked ears made it difficult to hear him, but Mom was generally pretty sporting even at three o'clock in the morning. I remember hearing a doorbell ring in my sleep, sitting up, and there was Socks waiting at the cage door for me. I heard someone knock on the door and there he was. I heard him squeak in my sleep once. Sometimes I would wake up to see him patiently meerkatting in the cold and dark. He must have been waiting for ages
. Socks loved to run on his Rolly wheel. I couldn't let him free roam in the dark at that time, so we used various playpens and tunnels and a young Socks would zoom around, skidding round corners and doing a hammy break dance routine as he marked the tunnels with his scent glands. He loved it when I'm would sit and watch him running on his wheel and would stop and gaze round the side of the wheel in disappointment if my attention wandered or if I tried to read my phone. If I dangled my hand near the wheel, he would give a little jump to get his wheel going again and start running again. Once or twice I heard him making tiny, delighted squeaking noises with pleasure as he had a sort of runner's high on his wheel 
Socks in his heyday was a gorgeous little red ham who put his all into living. He would have loved to run for miles like a wild hamster, to dig out a huge burrow and to put all of the incredible energy these small animals have into doing things humans would never manage to do by themselves.
But when you are having the time of your life, you never think that that might be the last time you get to do such wonderful things again. Socks, like all rodents, aged much faster than a human being. Two and a half years was all we would have together. I knew that when Spring came round again, a treacherous time for the elderly, especially those who associate it with the need for an extra effort in looking good and being active, Socks would probably reach the end of his life.
Indeed, during the first sustained warm days of Spring, Socks stopped using his beloved wheel and mainly just wanted to sleep, come out very briefly for food and water, and then go back into his nest. He stopped digging the deep, cleverly hidden tunnels he had always made. Bar climbing and biting were things of the past. The time to say goodbye had arrived. Socks was a gentle and loveable personality, kind and caring to the end. If his human friend was clumsy or sudden, the worst he would do was flump, a thing which in his old age dwindled down to a soft push with his paw. He left a mealworm unharmed in his food bowl, leaving it some lettuce to keep it company. He always left a bit of food behind to thank Mom. I think that if I started snoring, he would make an effort to wake me up out of concern for his human friend. I worry that his little ghost might still be waiting patiently for Mom to spend time with him. But I am sure that he is running free in the golden fields of heaven with Blossom the little Syrian hamster. Who needs a wheel when you have wings? And Socks certainly deserves his wings. Run free little one, run free and be happy
After such an intense and heartfelt life, be in peace and bliss 
Some people bring home their hamster and hardly ever see him. I think for all of our time together, except when he was very old at the end of his life, Socks was out every night, desperately wanting out of cage time. Initially this was at about 8 or 9pm, a reasonable hour, but after the two guinea pigs moved in, Socks favoured the small hours. Some times recurrent ear infections and blocked ears made it difficult to hear him, but Mom was generally pretty sporting even at three o'clock in the morning. I remember hearing a doorbell ring in my sleep, sitting up, and there was Socks waiting at the cage door for me. I heard someone knock on the door and there he was. I heard him squeak in my sleep once. Sometimes I would wake up to see him patiently meerkatting in the cold and dark. He must have been waiting for ages
. Socks loved to run on his Rolly wheel. I couldn't let him free roam in the dark at that time, so we used various playpens and tunnels and a young Socks would zoom around, skidding round corners and doing a hammy break dance routine as he marked the tunnels with his scent glands. He loved it when I'm would sit and watch him running on his wheel and would stop and gaze round the side of the wheel in disappointment if my attention wandered or if I tried to read my phone. If I dangled my hand near the wheel, he would give a little jump to get his wheel going again and start running again. Once or twice I heard him making tiny, delighted squeaking noises with pleasure as he had a sort of runner's high on his wheel Socks in his heyday was a gorgeous little red ham who put his all into living. He would have loved to run for miles like a wild hamster, to dig out a huge burrow and to put all of the incredible energy these small animals have into doing things humans would never manage to do by themselves.
But when you are having the time of your life, you never think that that might be the last time you get to do such wonderful things again. Socks, like all rodents, aged much faster than a human being. Two and a half years was all we would have together. I knew that when Spring came round again, a treacherous time for the elderly, especially those who associate it with the need for an extra effort in looking good and being active, Socks would probably reach the end of his life.
Indeed, during the first sustained warm days of Spring, Socks stopped using his beloved wheel and mainly just wanted to sleep, come out very briefly for food and water, and then go back into his nest. He stopped digging the deep, cleverly hidden tunnels he had always made. Bar climbing and biting were things of the past. The time to say goodbye had arrived. Socks was a gentle and loveable personality, kind and caring to the end. If his human friend was clumsy or sudden, the worst he would do was flump, a thing which in his old age dwindled down to a soft push with his paw. He left a mealworm unharmed in his food bowl, leaving it some lettuce to keep it company. He always left a bit of food behind to thank Mom. I think that if I started snoring, he would make an effort to wake me up out of concern for his human friend. I worry that his little ghost might still be waiting patiently for Mom to spend time with him. But I am sure that he is running free in the golden fields of heaven with Blossom the little Syrian hamster. Who needs a wheel when you have wings? And Socks certainly deserves his wings. Run free little one, run free and be happy
After such an intense and heartfelt life, be in peace and bliss 
little Socks had such a loving mum, he had the best home and was so lucky to have found you 
