Mr Nibbles

Mr Nibbles, a rotund creature with an air of considerable self-importance, paused momentarily to inspect the carpet before waddling purposefully towards the hallway. Dave, maintaining a casual watch, did not give much thought to the hamster’s expedition—after all, how far could a hamster feasibly manage to go? However, it was precisely here that Dave made a critical misjudgement: underestimating the latent agility and determination of Mr Nibbles.

Mr Nibbles identified an aperture—a narrow gap between the wall and the skirting board, an opening so minute that no reasonable person would deem it traversable. Nevertheless, Mr Nibbles, possessing an indomitable spirit akin to that of the most valiant adventurers, manoeuvred his fluffy body through the slender crevice, disappearing into the wall cavity. There, the indistinct creaks and rustlings of the hidden recesses hinted at enigmatic secrets concealed within.

Dave’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Mr Nibbles? Where did you go, mate?” he exclaimed, dropping to his hands and knees to peer into the shadowy depths of the gap. He could faintly discern the soft pitter-patter of tiny feet echoing through the house’s internal labyrinth—a structure erected in the 1970s, during a period when home construction appeared more focused on concealed mysteries than structural soundness.

In a moment of sheer panic, Dave reached for his phone. Within minutes, Shane arrived, dressed as though he were embarking on a full-scale military operation. He wore camouflage trousers, an oversized utility vest brimming with an assortment of unknown tools, and had even donned knee pads, evidently prepared for extreme contingencies. Additionally, he was equipped with his well-worn gardening gloves, a headlamp, and—for reasons that eluded Dave—a wooden spoon.

“Alright, Dave,” Shane proclaimed, his tone conveying the gravity of a commander leading a tactical unit, “where did you last see the little rascal?”

Dave gestured towards the narrow gap, prompting Shane to crouch down with the intensity of a detective meticulously examining a crime scene. “This calls for something special, Dave,” Shane declared. “Cheese,” he announced, producing a slice of cheddar from his pocket with the flair of a magician unveiling a rabbit. “Trust me, hamsters have a weakness for it.” Shane proceeded to break the cheese into small fragments and, with a rather conspicuous zeal, began placing the pieces near the gap in the wall.

For the next half hour, they waited. Dave lay prone on the floor, murmuring assurances to Mr Nibbles. “Come on, mate. I’ll get you a wheel with LED lights. I’ll even buy you those organic sunflower seeds.” Meanwhile, Shane tapped the wall gently with the wooden spoon, as if attempting to channel his willpower to coax the hamster back. Dave, observing him, could not help but raise an eyebrow, questioning whether Shane’s methods had perhaps strayed into the realm of absurdity, though he wisely refrained from voicing his thoughts.

Suddenly, a faint shuffling emerged from the darkness. Dave held his breath. Shane clung to his wooden spoon in anticipation. From the shadowy depths, the tiny nose of Mr Nibbles appeared, followed by his rapidly twitching whiskers. Enticed by the aroma of cheddar, Mr Nibbles cautiously emerged from the gap, his demeanour turning to nonchalance, as though entirely indifferent to the commotion around him.

“Oh, thank heavens,” Dave sighed, swiftly scooping up the diminutive escapee. Mr Nibbles blinked lazily, seemingly oblivious to the drama he had caused. Shane gave Dave a congratulatory tap on the shoulder with his spoon, “Told you, cheese never fails. Well, except for that time my cat met a raccoon… but that’s another story.”