Wishes

My father has built duck heaven for the runner ducks. Now he is worried about the hamster. She bit me in the middle of the night.

"I don't understand!" he said. "When we first got her, you could handle her!"
"Well, no one has," said my mother, indicating the utter lack of interest my nephew has shown in said hamster after his first week of possession.
"I've been trying to the past few nights," I said. "I scoop her into my shirt and pet her. But last night she was too fast for me."
"Maybe you could wear gloves?" my father said.
"But then she wouldn't feel the warmth," I said.
"Rubber gloves?" he said, anguished.
"Hmm," I said.
"I don't want her to smell deerskin!" he said, beseechingly.
"I don't know what I want for the hamster."