Goodbye, Mr. Squeak
Zack Booth came running down the stairs and into the kitchen at top speed. Brennan looked up from stirring the organic vegetable soup she had simmering on the stove, and frowned at him.
"Zack, how many times must I remind you not to run insid—"
She stopped short at the sight of his tear-stained cheeks. "Honey, what's wrong?"
"Mommy, there's something wrong with Mr. Squeak, he isn't moving!" Zack thrust out his hand. In his palm rested a small grey/black striped hamster.
His mother gently stroked the little animal, then put her arm around Zack's thin shoulder and guided him to the laundry room. She stopped the dryer and pulled out a small dish towel, turned on the hot water faucet and retrieved a hot water bottle from the cupboard, which she filled and capped. Taking the hamster from Zack, she placed him on the warmed water bottle and wrapped the towel around both. After restarting the dryer, she placed the bundle on top of it, and turned to Zack.
"Let's leave him here a little while to warm up and see if he wakens," she said softly, giving him another hug. "It's possible he just got chilled. We'll check him after a while."
Zack sniffled but brightened slightly. "Thanks, Mom. D'ya think he'll be okay?"
"I don't know, we'll know more in a bit. Meanwhile, let's get you some chocolate milk."
Oooooooooooo
Two hours later, Brennan's suspicions were confirmed and she sat in Booth's recliner, a sobbing Zack on her lap.
"Small animals like hamsters usually have a lifespan of about two years. You got Mr. Squeak for your sixth birthday, two months short of three years ago. He was actually a very elderly hamster. He had a good long life, because you loved and took good care of him."
These logical facts were of little comfort to the little boy in her arms. "He-e di-didn't li-live looo-ng ee-nough!" Zack stuttered through his tears.
"Death is a part of nature. No pets or people live forever, honey. Pops passed away, Max passed away," Brennan told her son quietly. "Parker and Christine lost pets when they were younger, too, and it hurt just as badly as losing Mr. Squeak, but that's just the way of things. When your dad and Hank get back from hockey practice, we'll fix Mr. Squeak a resting place. Why don't you want to take him outside and remember the fun you had together."
Brennan knew Booth would suggest that Zack tell Mr. Squeak goodbye and thank you, but she didn't feel comfortable doing so. Zack slid off her lap, walked slowly through the kitchen and outside, where he sat down on the patio steps, talking softly to his pet.
Ooooooooooooooo
Once he was out of earshot, Brennan glanced at her watch, reached for her cell phone and sent Booth a text, informing him of Zack's sad predicament. She checked the vegetable soup, turned down the heat, and washed the dishes she had used in preparing it. A half hour later, she heard Booth's SUV pull into the driveway and its doors slam as Hank jumped out. He burst through the front door, lugging his equipment bag, and ran to the kitchen where he gave her an exuberant hug.
"Mom, we had a really good practice! Dad thinks we'll beat the Horned Toads for sure."
He noticed his twin sitting outside. "What's Zack doing in the backyard?"
Brennan smiled at her son. "I'm glad your practice went so well, honey. While you and your dad were gone, Zack was cleaning his hamster's cage, and found Mr. Squeak unresponsive."
Booth came in from the garage, his face full of concern, and looked outside at the hunched figure of Zack. "You're sure he's gone?"
Brennan rolled her eyes at her husband. "Yes, Booth, I'm very qualified to take the pulse of any animal on this planet," she assured him dryly.
"I know, Bones, I was just hoping he might've revived since you sent that text. But no go, huh?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
Meanwhile, Hank had slipped out the back door, leaving it ajar, plopped down on the steps beside his twin, and draped his arm over Zack's shoulder in silent sympathy. Booth followed, and squatted down in front of his boys.
"Zack, I'm sorry about your hamster, Son. Your mom's right. He did have a long full life, but that doesn't make losing him any easier to take, does it? You know, I have some cigar boxes in the garage that Pops saved for years and years. You want to go take a look at them and pick one for Mr. Squeak?"
Zack nodded slowly, and turned to Hank. "Would you hold him for a while?"
"Sure. I'd like that. Beaker might not last much longer either, I guess," Hank responded.
oooooooooooooo
Later that afternoon, once Christine had come home from her part-time job at the library, the Booth-Brennan family gathered under a large tree in the rear corner of their back yard, where a low wire fence enclosed a small plot of ground. Booth had dug a hole next to several small mounds of grass. Zack held the cigar box. Brennan had given him a navy blue polyester napkin to wrap the little hamster in and written a short poem which Zack folded and placed inside before closing the box. Booth recited the first verse of Cecil Frances Alexander's poem, as Brennan remained tolerantly silent, biting her tongue.
"All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all."
"Zack, Buddy, you want to say anything before we lay Mr. Squeak to rest?" his father asked softly.
Zack was quiet for a moment, then whispered, "You were a really good pet, Mr. Squeak. Thanks for being my friend. You made me feel better when I was sad, or I got in trouble, or yelled at. I'm gonna miss you a lot. Good-bye," he couldn't continue any further.
Over their children's heads, Brennan looked at Booth, tears running down her cheeks. "Ripley," she mouthed. He nodded, remembering how she had hesitantly addressed the Universe on behalf of the poor dog they'd buried together years ago.
Hank and Christine stood beside their brother, thinking of other little pets Mr. Squeak was joining in this quiet spot in their yard.
Booth stooped to pick up the Dutch Masters cigar box and gently placed it in the waiting hole. "Rest well, Mr. Squeak. You're in good company out here with many other faithful pets," he said softly.
Brennan put her arm around Zack, and Christine did the same. "Come on in the house, Zack. Daddy will cover him up."
Hank remained standing beside his father. "I want to help you," he said firmly.
"Okay, Bub, I think your brother would like that. You know Christine has a frog, a fish, a turtle, and a kitten here. Parker has a pup that your mom gave him when we first moved here. Once a long time ago, she had a dog for a very short time that didn't make it, and we buried him together. His name was Ripley."
Hank didn't ask any questions, but walked to the garden shed and returned with a shovel almost as big as he was.
"Here, son, you use this spade to smooth over the dirt, once I get it back in the hole, okay? Make it nice and level, and then we'll put the flat rock on top that Christine wrote for Mr. Squeak."
Hank watched as his father shoveled the rich dark earth back over the little grave. "I feel bad for Zack, Daddy. I can't think of anything to make him not sad."
"There just isn't any way to soothe the hurt, Buddy. Time will help a little, and remembering the fun Zack had with his hamster, but losing a pet hurts. Not as much as a person, but we still miss them."
Hank took a deep breath and wiped his eyes.
"You know, your Uncle Hodgins would give us a lecture about calling it 'dirt.' He wouldn't like that at all. Always explaining how soil is composed of so many elements. I've heard his speech so many times, I've almost got it memorized," Booth told his son.
Hank chuckled in spite of his tears. "Yeah, I know, it always makes Michael so mad. He says Uncle Hodgins is a stickler for science. But then, so is Mom."
Booth put the tools back in the shed, and shut its door. "Let's go see if we can get your mom to make us some cocoa, what d'ya say?"
"Sounds good, Dad."
Oooooooooooooooo
Later that night, Parker called his little brother after receiving a text from Christine.
"Hey, Zack, I'm sorry to hear about your hamster. He was a really good pet, wasn't he? Had the brightest eyes, I thought."
"Thanks, Parker."
"How many pets you figure we've got out back? I've lost count."
Zack laughed a bit. "I don't know, Parker. Quite a few."
"Love you, Buddy."
"I love you more, Parker."
oooooooooooooo
That night as they prepared for bed, Booth and Brennan discussed that the day's sad occurrence had been a hard lesson for their sons.
"I remember when Rebecca called me to say that Petey had died. Parker was so broken up over that dog she couldn't calm him down. I guess he's still out behind the house they rented on Emerson Lane."
"I don't much remember the pets we had when I was really little. Max said Russ had quite a few before we moved to Ohio, but they couldn't handle dogs or cats once they changed their names. I had a parakeet when I was ten, though. I guess he was small enough to be manageable if we'd had to leave quickly. After he died, they didn't get me any others. I was thinking about Ripley while we buried Mr. Squeaks. I still miss him."
"I know you were, Bones. I thought about him too. You know, that polyester napkin you gave Zack to wrap Mr. Squeak in will outlast all of us! I still remember when Zack Addy told me during a case when we exhumed a victim that his polyeter suit would be intact for centuries."
Brennan looked a bit startled at his comment, suddenly let out a guffaw, and collapsed onto the bed, her shoulder shaking with laughter.
"I'd forgotten about that case... How right he was!... That fabric has a very slow decomposition rate... You couldn't have said anything funnier to raise my spirits, Booth! I can't catch my breath for laughing," she gasped between chuckles.
"Come on, silly Bones. Let's get to bed before you wake the twins!"
A/N: Two of my kids away at college have Dwarf Russian hamsters who've been ailing the last few months. We got them while our son worked at a pet supply store, where he helped care for the animals, and observed their personalities. These little guys were both sweet-tempered and fun to play with. Never nipped at anyone, unlike two cantankerous predecessors we've had over the years. Both had serious ailments, typical for their breed. They both passed away this month, two weeks apart, and caused as much sadness in death as they had brought joy during their lives. RIP Catherine the Great and Fritz.