Rest in peace, Gravy.

Alright, now before you think I'm crazy bacause of the title, let me explain something. Gravy was my first out of seven pet hamsters. I weanted to name hin biscuit, but my cousins had just recieved a dog with the same name.Sadly, I can remember vividly the day he passed away. The day had began as a day of celebration. He had just recently been found after he escaped from his cage a week earlier.While in the living room, we decided to place him in his little ball he loved to run around in. (he once even took the ball down the stairs. That was an adventure.) It was only about 10 minutes later he started acting strange. He was jerking his head and moving his mouth, as if having a seizure. By the time I showed my dad, he had died. I didn't take long before we discovered the cause of death. He had choled to death on a piece of plastic left out on the floor. After we said our short goodbyes, we wrapped him in a paper towel and buried him under a tree, where all my other dead pets would later be buried. now, four years later, that cemetery has the bodies of smudge, gravy, hershey/smores(He didn't even live long enough for us to come up with an official name),smokey, fudgeball, marshmallow, and another one I didn't even get to name. After the hamstes came one gerbil, appropriately named oreo. That one died by being dropped headfirst onto a shovel by a five year old. But that's another story.

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