When my husband lost his job we could no longer afford our large apartment, so I signed a lease on a tiny bachelor suite where only one tenant was allowed, but they were open to small rodent-like critters—caged of course. I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of my husband Henry, he was a habit after all, so I put him on a strict diet of seeds, bits of fruit and veg, with mealworms as a treat for good behaviour, hoping he’d lose enough weight to fit into a small cage. The night before the moving van arrived we had a trial run. I pushed and shoved, but Henry couldn’t squeeze through the cage door. He refused to be greased and there wasn’t enough time for him to lose more weight. Then it dawned on me, my hairy husband was not adverse to a bit of pain, and he only needed to shrink by a millimetre or so. I dug through boxes until I found my leg waxing kit. I heated the wax and went to work. There was much screaming and moaning, but when we finished Henry was able to slide right through the cage door. When we arrived at the new apartment he refused to leave the cage, so I rolled him up to the window where he now basks all day, smiling up at curious passersby, and sleeps all night after I feed him, clean up his soiled litter, and head off to my lonely bed.