Saving Chester

While the kids got ready for bed, Daddy sat beside Bobby on the playroom floor, with Chester bleeding in his hands.

"They eat cardboard, so a box won't do," Mommy thought out loud. "But we could put him in a punch bowl with a tray on top, just for tonight. And tomorrow I could pick up another cage."

"I will not spend another penny on gerbil gear," Daddy insisted.

"Then what are you going to do, Dad?" asked Bobby. "They don't recognize each other anymore. If you put them together, they'll just fight each other like they were strangers and enemies."

"Recognize?" said Daddy. "Yes, that's it. They recognize by smell. Frick and Frack have the smell of the wood chips in the cage. And Chester smells like stuffed animals. We've just got to give him a chance to get his old smell back."

So Daddy used a piece of perforated plastic to divide the gerbil cage in half. It was the same plastic that he had used to divide a fish tank to isolate a fish that was chasing and biting the rest.

The next day Frick and Frack snarled and scratched at Chester through the partition. By the second day, they didn't pay much attention to Chester. And on the third day, Daddy took the partition out, and they all got along together fine.

"My hero," said Heather, throwing her arms around Daddy, and sitting on his lap on the sofa.

"My hero," mimicked Mikey, sitting on his lap, too.

"Not bad, Dad. Not bad at all," admitted Bobby.

And the whole family spent the evening sitting on the sofa watching the gerbils play.

"You see," said Mommy. "Getting gerbils wasn't such a bad idea, after all, was it, dear?"

"You're right, as always," he admitted, petting Chester and kissing Mommy on the cheek.

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