i had a cat, 'paul', and a hamster, 'barnabus'. when i was 4, i took barnabus out of his cage, and i was tapping him ever so lightly (i swear!) with my plastic golf club. well, he stopped moving. i got scared, and put him back in his cage before my mom noticed. later that night, my mom saw he wasn't moving around, and she discovered he was dead. she felt so bad for me, but i didn't let on that i knew i had crushed him with my plastic weapon (what a jerk!). when i was growed up (j/k), i told her what happened. she was relieved to find out i wasn't so traumatized by the loss......or was i?