No doubt you've heard that the American black bear and the loggerhead sea turtle are endangered species. But I'd like to introduce you to one that perhaps you weren't aware of yet, and I'm afraid it's quite dire.

Hamsterous Artificialious.

Or, by its common name, the Zhu Zhu Pet--the hottest toy of 2009.

Let me describe this to you in case you don't have the commercial theme song replaying in your mind every waking moment and half of the sleeping ones. The Zhu Zhu pet is a battery-operated hamster that crawls through an elaborate and colorful tunnel system or rolls around in a plastic ball. It is covered in synthetic fur, and it is soft, cuddly and wonderfully playful if that's your thing.

And if you're a six year old girl that's your thing.

The best part of the Zhu Zhu pet for parents is that it is a plastic and synthetic object that neither eats nor defecates like a real, living, breathing, pungent woodshavings loving hamster. And it retails for only $9.99.

This is the greatest invention of our lifetime. A toy that creates the child-pet relationship without a license, scientifically-engineered food or a parvo shot. It's absolutely perfect.

Except, of course, if you actually wish to find the elusive Zhu Zhu Pet.

Although its native habitat--the vast tundra of shelves at Toys R Us, Target and online retailers--has not been threatened in any way, the Zhu Zhu remains oddly absent during this retail season. When I approached what I thought was the nesting Zhu behind a blind of Hannah Montana wigs, I found the end cap empty--only a sign in the place where the backup AA batteries should have been. It read simply, Unless--oops, sorry, wrong story.

No, it didn't say anything that eloquent at all. It read in Times Roman bold 16 point font: "LIMIT 4 ZHU ZHU PETS PER CUSTOMER PER DAY." This confused me since there wasn't a single one there, let alone my allotted four. I asked a store employee who amidst his laughter told me there was a truck coming in on Saturday, but no one knew if the Zhu squared would grace it. Then he made some sort of gesture to his groin area and cackled, "I've got your rain check right here." (My local toy store may want a more sanitary storage place for official company correspondence.)

So my hunt continued through every retailer in central Florida, the Interwebs and some Chinese restaurants that I really don't want to talk about. All seemed lost and I was about ready to give up when it suddenly dawned on me--where are more than half of the animal and plant species on this planet located?

The Amazon.com.

It is here where I would finally end my search for the near-extinct Zhu Zhu.

I excitedly signed in. I drooled at the "if you order in the next sixteen minutes you can have this item by tomorrow!" I was even contemplating becoming a preferred, elite, platinum, triple bonus club rewards member when I saw the price tag delicately poised at the bottom of my virtual shopping cart.

There was a 4 in front of the $9.99 that was the advertised price on other sites. My ten dollar fake hamster was now fifty before tax, shipping, and desperate mother excise fees.

At this point, the Amazon backs out like a Brazilian bartender after last call on Mardi Gras, and a "third party" dealer steps in.

Or should I say, "A LIMIT FOUR PER CUSTOMER PER DAY" dealer.

Yes, there is a black market even in the pretend animal trade, and Usury_Charlie09 is the ringleader.

Now there can only be one of three endings to this story. One, I deleted my Amazon account, wrote a scathing letter to my Congressman and the Better Business Bureau and gave the six year old a handmade hamster I made out of a burlap sack and a handful and dried beans for her birthday. Two, I deleted my Amazon account, wrote a scathing letter to my Congressman and the Better Business Bureau and gave my six year old a living, breathing hamster from PetCo and told her stories of the Circle of Life while I cleaned the Habitrail of hamster scat.

Or three.

Usury Chuck only accepts PayPal.

©2009 Tracey Henry

Divamail me real market value.