The Depths of Grief

Hamsty died. Sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning. Gabe presided over a very moving funeral in the backyard. He seemed to take it the worst. Sam was rather disinterested. Lauran felt guilty, like we hadn't given him the right kind of attention or something. (He was a HAMSTER. They don't live long. No one cries when our momma guppies eat most of their offspring as soon as they are born. Call of the Wild, Survival of the Fittest and all that.)