After tea, Stinky and I were watching TV in my room. Our favourite show, Spy Gang, had just been on, and now there was a wildlife documentary about lions. On the screen, a lion had chased down a gazelle and was tucking into it.
‘Do lions eat hamsters?’ I asked Stinky. ‘For a snack, I mean. Between meals.’
‘Fortunately for us,’ he said, ‘we usually live in different places.’
‘Oh. Of course,’ I said. ‘Lions live in the jungle. Hamsters live in pet shops and kids’ bedrooms.’
He sighed. ‘That’s not what I meant. Hamsters live in the wild too, you know. We just don’t usually live near lions, thank goodness.’
I found it hard to imagine Stinky living in the wild. He wasn’t a big fan of going outside, full stop, and he’d told me before that lots of animals would like to eat hamsters, given the chance.
‘So, when hamsters live outdoors,’ I asked him, ‘how do they survive?’
‘We dig burrows,’ he explained, ‘and live underground quite a lot of the time, so nothing can get to us. We even dig different rooms in our burrows. A place for eating, a place for sleeping, a toilet.’
‘Like an underground house?’
‘Exactly.’
‘So hamsters are talented,’ I said, and then added glumly, ‘just not quite as talented as a bunch of mice.’
Stinky frowned at me. ‘I am not about to be beaten by a team of gymnastic mice,’ he said.
Then he had an idea. His nose twitched excitedly and his eyes brightened.
‘Bring me your toy box, Ben.’
I dragged it out from under my bed. Inside were lots of things I hardly played with any more – old teddies, building blocks, cars.
Stinky pointed out two things – a toy car and a box of dominoes.
‘Are you sure?’ I said. ‘You told me you never wanted to play me at dominoes ever again. Or draughts. Or anything really. In fact, you said that playing games against a slug would be more of a challenge.’
‘I was right,’ he said. ‘And it wouldn’t have to be a high-achieving slug either. However, I don’t want to play dominoes. I just need one domino, the wheels from that car, some scissors and some sticky tape.’
‘What for?’
‘You’ll see.’
Of course, hamsters, even genius ones, can’t hold scissors or use sticky tape – their paws are much too tiny. So Stinky barked instructions at me through the bars of his cage and sat there supervising while I did all the work.
After a long time of me snipping, sticking and making tiny adjustments, Stinky finally told me that he was happy with it.
I stared at what I’d made, and then frowned at Stinky.
‘What is it?’ I asked him.
‘What does it look like?’
‘It looks like a domino with wheels,’ I said.
‘It’s a skateboard,’ he said. ‘For me. Because if there’s one thing more spectacular than gymnastic mice, it’s a hamster on a skateboard, don’t you think?’
I whooped. He was right!
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘Do you even know how to skate?
‘Not yet,’ he admitted. ‘But even you can do it. So how difficult can it be?’
