--From the Hardin County News-Enterprise, March 4, 2004

    I knew I'd ruined Valentine's Day when I accidentally threw my fiancee's hamster across the room.
    It started well enough. My young fiancée had bought a pet hamster a couple of days before, and the little guy was eating seeds and corn kernels from the palms of our hands. Then we let him -- or, heck, her; who can really tell? -- run around on the couch, scurrying on the armrests and burrowing between the cushions.
    It was positively precious.
    My fiancee -- we'll call her "Nina" because her parents do -- read online from the learned biologists at hamsterama.com that hamsters love being kept in cages with others just like them, so they can rub their adorable little noses together and curl into little fuzzy balls next to each other at night.
    All this cuteness got Nina feeling blue about how she'd so thoughtlessly ripped little Kirby the hamster away from all his little furry friends. There he was, asleep one afternoon next to all the other little hamlets, when that mean ol' pet store clerk scooped him up and stuffed him in a box that may or may not have once held Chinese takeout.
    How awful, my beloved decided. Never mind the Valentine's dinner reservations I'd made six months ago (or, McDonalds), we had to buy Kirby a friend before he kicked over from loneliness, a full six months before he would have died from old age anyway.
    Soon I was driving our new happy family home, and my sweet baboo was holding a carrier with Kirby and another takeout box with our nameless young friend. Nina decided to drop the newcomer into Kirby's cage so they could start gossiping and braiding each other's hair.
    Those adorable little creatures latched onto each other like Ken Shamrock and Royce Gracie in Ultimate Fighting Championship Part 5, except biting and eye gouging were encouraged. My fiancée reached in and broke them up, and Kirby chomped her finger like the tip of a cigar.
    Nina was silent the rest of the way, a single tear trickling from her eye like those commercials with the litter-hating Indian. The image of her adorable little companions -- not to mention the flesh on her index finger -- had been ripped to a pulp.
    After assessing the situation at home, we decided there was no way the hamsterama.com guys could have failed us. We tried once again to initiate a lifelong friendship.
    Kirby and his new friend circled each other slowly, swallowing each other with their eyes and growing accustomed to one another's scent. The new hamster turned her back to stake out a new corner.
    Of course that's when Kirby struck again, attacking her like my editor assaults a buffet. Like a hero, I reached in.
    Kirby had bitten me before, but not like this. His teeth sunk into my skin like the Titanic in the north Atlantic. I jerked my hand back, fully expecting to be down a digit.
    Kirby just didn't want to let go, but he couldn't hold on. To Nina's horror, he sailed across the room, clanging against a garbage can in the corner.
    "Oh, my gosh!" she yelled. "Don't throw him! You've got to be gentle!"
    Nevermind that I had rabies. We took the new hamster back to the pet store five minutes after we bought her, dooming Kirby to a life of misunderstanding and loneliness, like the Incredible Hulk.
    Or so I thought. On the advice of zoologists at a better Web site, heavenlyhamster.com, Nina bought a new hamster while staying in Bowling Green. The heavenlyhamster.com guy said Kirby should get along fine with this one, so long as one of them is a female.
    Nina called and asked me to check Kirby and verify his sex; she had a hunch that dude might be a lady. All I'd have to do is turn him over and compare what I see to a grainy Internet photo she sent me.
    I looked over at Kirby, who was eyeing me suspiciously with his giant red peepers.
    It was a delicate job. I'll do it after my stitches are out.