On the morning of her eighth birthday, Charlie woke with a start, her heart pounding with excitement. She leaped out of bed and raced down the stairs in her pajamas. In the dining room, a small, colorful cage sat on the table. Inside, a ball of golden and white fur slept peacefully, nestled in a bed of wood shavings.

"Mimosa!" exclaimed Charlie, his eyes shining with joy.

Her parents, moved by her reaction, tenderly explained the rules to her: "A hamster is a big responsibility, my darling. You have to feed it every day, clean its cage every week and play with it so it doesn't get bored."

Charlie nodded with the utmost seriousness. From that moment on, Mimosa became the center of his universe, his little treasure to protect.

Every morning before school, Charlie would get up a little earlier to take care of her companion. She would check that the bottle contained fresh water and fill the bowl with mixed seeds. She loved watching Mimosa nibble, her little nose moving rapidly, her cheeks puffed out like a balloon.

In the evening, after finishing his math and French homework, Charlie would settle down near the cage with treats: pieces of crunchy carrot, seedless apple (Dad said they're poisonous!), or sometimes a small, well-washed lettuce leaf. Mimosa would come running immediately, her little pink paws gripping the bars, her dark eyes sparkling with anticipation.

One rainy Wednesday afternoon, Charlie had a brilliant idea. With the help of her mom, she built a gigantic maze using toilet paper rolls, perforated shoe boxes, and recycled cardboard tubes.

When she placed Mimosa there, the little hamster explored every nook and cranny with frenzy, its nose quivering with curiosity. It ran from one tunnel to another, climbed over obstacles, before collapsing from exhaustion in a cozy corner, clearly delighted with its playground of adventures.

But things weren't always easy. One November evening, tired after school, Charlie forgot to close the cage door properly. Early the next morning, disaster struck: Mimosa had disappeared!

Panicked, Charlie searched everywhere: under the bed, behind the wardrobe, in the laundry basket... Nothing. Her eyes filled with tears. What if Mimosa had escaped outside? What if he'd gotten cold? Suddenly, a soft "squeak squeak" sounded from the closet. Charlie opened the door and discovered the fugitive, comfortably settled in an old sneaker, happily chewing on the shoelace.

— Mimosa! You gave me such a fright! she growled softly as she carefully retrieved it.

She hugged him to her cheek (not too tightly, hamsters are fragile!), relieved to find him safe and sound. From that day on, she always double-checked that the cage was closed before going to bed.

As the weeks went by, Mimosa became less fearful. He now recognized Charlie's voice and came running when she called him. He readily climbed onto her hand to beg for seeds, and sometimes he even did cartwheels in her open palm, as if he were dancing just for her.

One freezing winter evening, Charlie fell ill with a high fever. Bedridden, sad, and tired, she asked her parents to bring her Mimosa. With utmost care, her father placed the little hamster on her duvet. Mimosa, as if understanding that his mistress needed comfort, snuggled against her neck. Her warm little body and ticklish whiskers brought a smile to Charlie's face.

"You're my best friend, Mimosa," she murmured.gently stroking her silky back.

Charlie's parents, watching the scene from the doorstep, exchanged a knowing glance. They realized they had given their daughter much more than just a pet: a lesson in patience, unconditional love, and responsibility.

And Charlie now knew something precious: even though Mimosa didn't speak, he understood everything. Friendship doesn't need words when hearts are connected.