The World According to Humphrey - Softcover

Birney, Betty G.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0142403520 ISBN 13: 9780142403525

Publisher: Puffin Books, 2005

Synopsis

The first book in the series about everyone's favorite classroom pet!

You can learn a lot about life by observing another species. That’s what Humphrey was told when he was first brought to Room 26. And boy, is it true! In addition to having FUN-FUN-FUN in class, each weekend this amazing hamster gets to sleep over with a different student, like Lower-Your-Voice-A.J. and Speak-Up-Sayeh. Soon Humphrey learns to read, write, and even shoot rubber bands (only in self-defense, of course). With lots of friends to help, adventures to enjoy, and a cage with a lock-that-doesn’t- lock, Humphrey's life is almost perfect. If only the teacher, Mrs. Brisbane, wasn’t out to get him!

Boys and girls can't help falling in love with Humphrey!

About this title

About the Author:

Betty G. Birney has won many awards for writing for television, including an Emmy, three Humanitas Prizes, and a Writers Guild of America Award, and she won the Christopher Award for Friendship According to Humphrey. In addition to the Humphrey series, she is the author of The Seven Wonders of Sassafrass Springs and The Princess and the Peabody's. She grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, where her parents grew up as neighbors on Humphrey Street. Her website, bettybirney.com, is full of fun Humphrey activities and information.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 1: The Return of Mrs. Brisbane

Today was the worst day of my life. Ms. Mac left Room 26 of Longfellow School. For good. And
that's bad.
Worse yet, Mrs. Brisbane came back. Until today, I didn't even know there was a Mrs. Brisbane. Lucky me. Now I want to know: What was Ms. Mac thinking?
She must have known that soon she'd be leaving with­ out me. And that Mrs. Brisbane would come back to Room 26 and I'd be stuck with her.
I still like-okay, love-Ms. Mac more than any human or hamster on earth, but what was she thinking?
“You can learn a lot about yourself by taking care of another species,” she told me on the way home the day she got me. “You'll teach those kids a thing or two.”
That’s what she was thinking.  I don't think she was thinking very clearly.
I'm never going to squeak to her again. Of course, I'll probably never see her again because she's GONE­ GONE-GONE-but if she comes back, I'm not even going to look at her.
 
(I know that last sentence doesn't make sense. It's hard to make sense when your heart is broken.)
On the other hand, until Ms. Mac arrived, I was going nowhere down at Pet-O-Rama. My days were spent sitting around, looking at a bunch of furry things in cages just like mine. We were treated all right: regular meals, clean cages, music piped in all day.
Over the music, Carl, the store clerk, would answer the phone: “Open nine to nine, seven days a week. Corner of Fifth and Alder, next to the Dairy Maid."
Back then, I feared I'd never see Fifth and Alder, much less the Dairy Maid. Sometimes I'd see human eyes and noses (not always as clean as they should be) poking up against the glass. Nothing ever came of it. The children were excited to see me, but the parents usually had other ideas.
“Oh, come see the fishes, Cornelia. So colorful and so much easier to take care of than a hamster," Mama might say.
Or "No, no, Norbert. They have the cutest little pup­ pies over here. After all, a dog is a boy's best friend."
So there we were: hamsters, gerbils, mice and guinea pigs-not nearly as popular as the fish, cats or dogs. I suspected that I'd be spinning my wheel at Pet-O-Rama forever.
But once Ms. Mac carried me out the door a short six weeks ago, my life changed FAST-FAST-FAST. I saw Fifth! I saw Alder! I saw the Dairy Maid with the statue of a cow in an apron outside!
I was dozing when she first came to Pet-0-Rama, as I do during the day because hamsters are more active at night.
“Hello." A warm voice awakened me. When I opened my eyes, I saw a mass of bouncy black curls. A big, happy smile. Huge dark eyes. She smelled of apples. It was love at first sight.
“Aren't you the bright-eyed one?" she asked.
“And might I return the compliment?" I replied. Of course, it came out “Squeak-squeak-squeak," as usual.
Ms. Mac opened up her purse with the big pink and blue flowers on it.
“I’ll take him," she told Carl. “He's obviously the most intelligent and handsome hamster you have."
Carl grunted. Then Ms. Mac picked out a respectable cage-okay, not the three-story pagoda I'd had my eye on-but a nice cage.
And soon, amid squeals of encouragement from my friends in the Small Pet Department, from the teeniest white mouse to the lumbering chinchilla, I left Pet-0-Rama with high hopes.
We sped down the street in Ms. Mac's bright yellow car! (She called it a Bug, but I could see it was really a car.) She carried my cage up the stairs to her apartment! We ate apples! We watched TV! She let me run around outside my cage! She gave me my very own name: Humphrey. And she told me all about Room 26, where we'd be going the next morning.
“And since you are an intelligent hamster who is going to school, I have a present for you, Humphrey," she said.
Then she gave me a tiny little notebook and a tiny little pencil. iii got these for you at the doll shop," she explained. She tucked them behind my mirror where no one could see them except me.
“Of course, it might be a while before you learn to read and write," she continued. “But you're smart and I know you'll catch on fast."
Little did she know I could already make out some words from my long, boring days at Pet-O-Rama.
Words like Chew Toys. Kibble. Pooper-Scoopers.
Remember, a hamster is grown up at about five weeks old. So if I could learn all the skills I need for life in five weeks, how long could it possibly take to learn to read?
I’ll tell you: a week. Yep, in a week I could read and even write a little with the tiny pencil.
In addition to schoolwork, I learned quite a bit about the other students in Room 26. Like Lower-Your-Voice­A.J. and Speak-Up-Sayeh and Wait-for-the-Bell-Garth and Golden-Miranda. (Even after I found out her name is really Miranda Golden, I thought of her as Golden­Miranda because of her long blonde hair. After all, I am a Golden Hamster.)
Yes, life in Room 26 suited me well during the day. My cage had all the comforts a hamster could ask for. I had bars on the window to protect me from my enemies. I had a little sleeping house in one corner where no one could see me or bother me. There was my wheel to spin on, of course, and a lovely pile of nesting material. My mirror came in handy to check my grooming (and to hide my notebook). In one corner, I kept my food. The opposite corner was my bathroom area because hamsters like to keep their poo away from their food. (Who doesn't?) All my needs were taken care of in one convenient cage.
At night, I went home from school with Ms. Mac and we watched TV or listened to music. Sometimes Ms. Mac played her bongo drums. She made a tunnel on the floor so I could race and wiggle to my hamster heart's content.
Oh, the memories of those six weeks with Morgan McNamara. That's her real name, but she told her students to call her Ms. Mac. That's how nice she is. Or was. On the weekends, Ms. Mac and I had all kinds of ad­ ventures. She put me in her shirt pocket (right over her heart!) and took me with her to the laundry room. She had friends over and they laughed and made a fuss over me. She even took me for a bike ride once. I can still feel the wind in my fur!
I didn’t have an inkling—until this morning—of the unsqueakable thing she was about to do to me. On the way to work she said, "Humphrey, I hate to tell you, but this is my last day in Room 26 and I'm going to miss you more than you’ll ever know.”
What was she saying? I hung on to my wheel for dear life!  
“You see it’s really Mrs. Brisbane’s class. But just before school started, her husband was in an accident, so I took over the class. Today, she’s coming back for good.” 
Good? I could see nothing good in what Ms. Mac was saying.
“Besides, I want to see the world, Humphrey,” she told me.
Fine with me. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed all the world I’ve seen so far and would go to the ends of the earth with Ms. Mac. But she wasn’t finished yet.
“But I can’t take you with me.”
All hopes dashed. Completely.
“Besides the kids need you to teach them responsibility. Mrs. Brisbane needs you too.”
 
Unfortunately, she didn’t tell Mrs. Brisbane that.
Mrs. Brisbane was already in Room 26 when we arrived. She smiled at Ms. Mac and shook her hand.
Then she frowned at me and said, “Is that some kind of...rodent?”
Ms. Mac gave her the speech about how much kids can learn from taking care of another species.
Mrs. Brisbane looked horrified and said, “I can’t stand rodents! Take it back!”
The it she was talking about was me.
Ms. Mac didn’t bat an eyelash. She put my cage in its usual place next to the window and said the kids were already very attached to me. She attached Dr. Harvey H. Hammer’s Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters to the cage, along with a chart to make sure I was fed and my cage was cleaned on time.
"The children know what to do. You won’t have to do a thing,” Ms. Mac said as Mrs. Brisbane glared at me. 
Just then, my fellow students came streaming into the room and within half an hour Ms. Mac had said good-bye to everyone, including me.
"I’ll never forget you, Humphrey,” she whispered. "Don't you forget me, either."
"Not likely. But I don't know if I can ever forgive you,” I squeaked.
And then she was gone. Without me.
Mrs. Brisbane didn't even come close to my cage until recess. Then she walked over and said, "Mister, you've got to go."
But she doesn't know my secret: The latch on my cage door doesn’t work. It never has. It's the lock-that­doesn’t-lock.
So I’ve got news for Mrs. Brisbane: If I've got to go, it will be when and where I decide to go. Not her.
Meanwhile, I’m not turning my back on this woman. Not for a second. If I ever disappear and someone finds this notebook, just check out Mrs. Brisbane. Please!
TIP ONE: Choose your new hamster's home very carefully and make sure it is secure. Hamsters are skillful "escape artists" and once out of their cages they are very difficult to find.
-Guide to the Care and Feeding of Hamsters, Dr. Harvey H. Hammer


Chapter 2: Night Life

For the rest of the day, I felt SAD-SAD-SAD.
"You look sad, Humphrey," Golden-Miranda said when she was cleaning my cage right before lunch. According to the chart Ms. Mac had left, it was her turn to take care of me, thank goodness. Miranda was the best cage-cleaner and never said "Yuck!" 
She put on throwaway gloves, then cleaned my potty corner, changed my bedding, gave me fresh water and finally-oh, joy!-gave me fresh grain, some lettuce and meal worms. "This will make you happy," she said as she slipped me the special treat she'd brought from home: cauli­flower. Naturally, Miranda had good taste. I promptly saved it in my cheek pouch until I could store it in my sleeping house. Hamsters like to stash food for the future. After my cage was taken care of, I felt well enough to observe Mrs. Brisbane more carefully. Now, Ms. Mac was tall, wore bright blouses, short skirts and high shoes. She wore bracelets that jingled-jangled. She spoke in a loud voice and waved her arms and walked all around the room when she taught. 
Mrs. Brisbane, on the other hand, was short with short gray hair. She wore dark clothes and flat shoes and she didn't jingle-jangle at all. She spoke in a voice just loud enough to hear and sat at her desk or stood at the chalkboard when she taught. 
No wonder I was feeling drowsy after lunch. All that nice food and all that soft talking. "
Is that all this hamster does-sleep?" she asked at one point when she glanced over at my cage. "Well, he's 'turnal," replied Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi Hopper. 
"Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi," said Mrs. Brisbane. "What's 'turnal?" 
"You know. 'Turnal. He sleeps during the day," said Heidi. 
I was wide-awake now. "Nocturnal," I squeaked. ''Hamsters are nocturnal." 
"Oh, you mean nocturnal," said Mrs. Brisbane, almost as if she had understood me. She turned and wrote the word on the board. "Can anyone else name an animal that's nocturnal?" 
"Owl," said Heidi. 
"Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi," said Mrs. Brisbane. "But that is correct. An owl is nocturnal. Anyone else?" 
A voice shouted out, "My dad!" 
Mrs. Brisbane looked around. "Who said that?" 
"He did. A.J." Garth Tugwell pointed at A.J. 
Both boys sat at the table nearest to my cage. 
"What about your dad?" Mrs. Brisbane asked. 
A.J. squirmed in his seat. "Well, my mom always says my dad is nocturnal 'cause he stays up so late watching TV." 
Stop-Giggling-Gail and a few other students snick­ered. Mrs. Brisbane didn't crack a smile. 
"Her use of the word is correct," she said. "Though, technically, humans are not nocturnal. Any others?" 
Eventually, the class came up with more names of nocturnal animals, like bats and coyotes and opossums, and Mrs. Brisbane said that the class would be learning more about animal habits later in the year. 
If she'd just look at me, she could learn a lot. But I no­ticed for the rest of the day that Mrs. Brisbane stayed far away from my cage, as if I had a disease or something. 
She read a mighty fine story to us in the afternoon, though. In fact, I couldn't get back to my nap afterward. It was about a scary house and these scratching noises and ... a ghost! THUMP-THUMP-THUMP, the ghost came down the hall! Oh, I had shivers and quivers. 
I have to say, Mrs. Brisbane knows how to read a story. Her voice changed and her eyes got wide and I for­got about her gray hair and her dark suit. To squeak the truth, my fur was on end! The story had a funny ending because it turned out the ghost wasn't a ghost at all. It was an owl! 
At the end of the story, everybody laughed. Even Mrs. Brisbane. 
I was beginning to think that life with this new teacher wouldn't be so bad. But I changed my mind when the bell rang at the end of the day and all my class­mates raced out of the room, leaving me alone with her. 
She erased the chalkboard and gathered up her pa­pers. I could tell that we'd be going home soon. Sud­denly, I began to worry. What if Mrs. Brisbane lived in a scary house with spooky noises and a thumping ghost?
Or, even worse, what is Mrs. Brisbane had a scary pet, like a dog?"
My mind was racing as fast as I was spinning my wheel when she finally approached and looked down at me, frowning. 
"Well, you're on your own now," she said.
With that, she closed the blinds and walked away. But I heard her mutter "rodent" under her breath.
She left the classroom and closed the door. 
She left me alone. All alone in Room 26. 
I had never ever been alone before.

As the room slowly grew darker and quieter, I thought back to the happy times at Ms. Mac's apartment. There were always cheery lights on and music and telephone­talking and ... oh, dear, during the day I never noticed how the clock on the wall ticked off the seconds one by one very loudly. 
TICK-TICK-TICK. I was feeling SICK-SICK-SICK. I wondered if there were any owls around Room 26. Or ghosts.  
I tried to pass the time by writing in my notebook about Pet-O-Rama and my days at Ms. Mac's apartment. Writing took my mind off my jittery nerves. But even­tually, my writing paw began to ache and I had to stop my scratchings. If only I could roam free, as I had at Ms. Mac's apartment! 
Then I remembered the lock-that-doesn't-lock.
It only took a few seconds to jiggle the door open. I skittered across the table. Then, grasping the top of the table leg tightly, I closed my eyes and slid to the ground. 
Ah, freedom! I dashed along the shiny floor. I darted between the tables and chairs. I stopped to nibble a peanut underneath Stop-Giggling-Gail's chair. It tasted delicious and made the coolest crunching sound. I chewed and chomped and gnawed and nibbled. And when I stopped ... I heard the sound. 
THUMP-THUMP-THU MP. Just like the story Mrs. Brisbane had read us. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. Closer and closer down the hall, coming toward Room 26.
Then RATTLE-SCRATCH. RATTLE-SCRATCH. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. Suddenly, I longed f...

About this edition

• Publisher: Puffin Books
• Publication date: 2005
• ISBN 10: 0142403520
• ISBN 13: 9780142403525
• Binding: Paperback
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 144