Peter sat at his kitchen table, nibbling on a piece of toast as he watched his pet hamster run itself sick. He never understood why Rody liked running so much. What was the point if all you were doing was spinning a wheel and not going anywhere? His mother, who had been bustling around their small kitchen for the past fifteen minutes, let out a sigh of frustration.
"Pete!" She exclaimed, hands on her hips. "I told you to keep that filthy rat off the table! We have to eat on that, you know!"
"He's not filthy!" Peter retorted, setting his toast down. "And he's a hamster, not a rat!" He begrudgingly moved the cage off the table after deciding that his mother's wrath was too formidable for comfort.
"I don't care if he's a panda! Animals don't belong on the table!" Her eyes darted to the chair that Rody was now resting on. "Or at the table." With a groan of annoyance, Peter snatched up Rody's cage and stomped grumpily upstairs, mumbling under his breath about what a "clean freak" his mother was. "Do you want to be grounded, young man?!" His mother's voice reached his ears just as he was about to slam his door. "Quiet down up there!"
Despite his annoyance, Peter had been looking forward to today for weeks. There wasn't much in the way of entertainment in Old Amersham, England, and he was going to London with some friends in just a few hours. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck at home while his friends had the time of their lives.