text: Or so I thought. Frankly, I have some problems with these people. I mean, we can all relate, right? Well, maybe not all of you can relate. I’m not sure. How many of you live with creatures from a different species that is thirty-six times your size? Let me know in the comments section.
  Look, here’s my main gripe with this family: they don’t feed me. Do you believe that? Seriously, do you believe that? You don’t? Ok, well… I guess you’re right. They do actually feed me. Sorry, got a little carried away there.
  So, they feed me. Oh they feed me alright. Do you know what they feed me? Hamster food. That’s right. ‘Hamster food’. Just any old plastic bag with ‘hamster food’ and a picture of a hamster printed onto it. They buy this stuff and fill my food bowl with it without giving it a second thought.
  Now, allow me you ask you a question. If you were in a supermarket and saw a bag with ‘human food’ written on it, accompanied by a picture of some random, photogenic human, would you automatically deem the contents of said bag to be an appropriate meal for a loved one?
  Does this family think that, because I am a rodent, I will eat just about anything that’s put in front of me? Also, serious question people: When is the word ‘rodent’ going to lose its stigma? Not any time soon, in this rodent’s humble opinion.
  Is it wrong to want the finer things in life? To want the world to burn a little brighter? To want to eat something other than dry pellets of nondescript mixed grains every day of one’s life? I can’t answer these questions. What do you think I am, some kind of hamster philosopher? Ha! A hamster philosopher. What a ridiculous idea. No, I am merely a humble hamster ex-Secret Service agent who would like to dine with a little class.
  Or, more specifically: to eat the kale and heirloom tomatoes growing in the vegetable patch in our back yard.
  Now, acquiring this food will take a very carefully planned and executed mission. I will, of course, have to make use of my training. Let me outline my stratagem—and, while I’m at it, let me also explain a few things about hamsters that you may not be aware of.
  At zero hundred hours, when the family are sleeping soundly, I will use my God-given, humanoid and, if I may say so, adorable little feet to jimmy open the door of my cage. Given that hamsters are nocturnal (or, ok, yes, sometimes crepuscular, but let’s not split fur, as I believe the expression goes); given that we’re nocturnal, I have no concerns about being fully alert and ready for action at this hour.
  (A quick note: I will be wearing my shades for this mission, even though it is being undertaken at night. There are two important reasons for this. 1. They complement my features rather dashingly, I feel. 2. All hamsters are both nearsighted and colorblind and these are, in fact, prescription sunglasses.)
  My cage is located in the living room of the house and the window of this room is left ajar during the night, so all I will need to do is make it across the floor, up the wall and onto the windowsill.
  Can hamsters climb walls, I hear you ask. Sure we can, especially when a wall is textured and therefore provides us with footholds. In fact, I’d always assumed that this modern trend amongst humans for textured walls was a way of turning their homes into a sort of playground for their hamsters.
  The only obstacle to reaching the window will be the family’s cat. Ah, Olaf: my arch nemesis, my old foe. Do pet cats kill pet hamsters, I hear your laptop keys clack as you type this question into Google.
  Outmanoeuvring the cat will not be easy. This ain’t Tom and Jerry, folks. Should the enemy come on the offensive, I will not conjure a large mallet from behind my back with which to bonk it on the head. No, I will need stealth, speed, and seduction. Wait, no, not seduction. Sorry. Weird. I will probably need to stretch beforehand though, come to think of it.
  Once I’ve completed a successful landing fall in the back yard, all that will stand between me and the vegetables (literally) will be the wire mesh fence that bounds the patch. This will not be a problem. Why? Because hamsters are wonderful diggers. Even domesticated hamsters don’t lose their native talent for digging a good tunnel—even retired domesticated hamsters, for that matter.