Obscene Calls and Dead Pets

An ordinary Saturday night at home: Bone-blistering cold. I've skipped a cast and crew party for Les Belles Seours because it's too darn cold and I've got too many other things to do in the apartment. Watching A&E. Working on the Les Belles program. Taking down the last of the Christmas decos.

One of my two hamsters, a Golden named Scooter, seems to have a cold. She wobbles around her cage looking shaky and weak, sneezing occasionally. She cuddles up in her nest and I let her sleep.

I box up a few more tree ornaments. Then I notice that the second hamster, who was healthy and wired just half an hour earlier, is starting to look legarthic and glazed, too. This is Sammy, a tiny Black Bear hamster with a fluffy white chest and chin. She's normally about as sedate as a Tasmanian devil (to which she bears striking resemblance, by the way - is the pet store ripping me off?) I scoop Sammy carefully out of her cage, and she ambles around the sofa looking very emaciated. I cuddle her in my hands and stroke her fur. She is cold and moving so sluggishly, I'm sure she's got a cold just like Scooter.

I'm cuddling Sammy when the phone rings. It's very early in the morning, about 2:30, and I'm sure this is my boyfriend letting me know that he's on his way home from work, and would I like to go to Tim Horton's for a tea? Instead an angry male voice screams, "FUCK YOU, BITCH! SUCK MY DICK, WHORE! FUCK YOU!" Just a stupid phone call. Probably a wrong number. I say, "Uh, yeah, whatever", and start to hang up the phone. Before the phone even hits that cradle, however, someone is pounding my living room and kitchen windows with their fists, or throwing something at them. Now I'm freaked. Does someone know I'm in the apartment alone? No one has ever banged on our windows before. No one has made a phone call like that to this number before. I duck behind a wall away from the windows and close to the front door, in case something else happens. I'm still holding Sammy, and she seems sluggish but OK. I finally risk going to the windows so I can put Sammy back in her nest, where she can have some rest and a sip of water.

By the time I have spoken to the police, who offer to check into the number that called me, my boyfriend is home from the night shift and I've calmed down a lot. I'm still a little shaken. The phone call alone isn't a big deal. Pounding on the windows alone isn't a big deal. But what are the odds that both would happen at the exact same time? Anyway, I put that behind me and go to check on the hamsters. Sammy is dead. Scooter is still sick and I don't expect her to last the night.