In Memory of Hamsters

When my brother was about 8 or 9 years old mom and dad decided he was responsible enough to have a hamster (who my brother named Teddy because he was a teddy bear hamster, this name will have great significance later in the story) Of course mom ended up feeding it most of the time, but overall Teddy lived a happy life.
Mom bought all the hamster necessities. Teddy had a little house where he could burrow and sleep. (Which he of course did all day long, to rest up for a night of noise making) He had a wheel to run on (this will also be very significant later in the story) and he had a ball that we could put him in to let him run around the living room.
Well, as I've said, Teddy loved to make noise at night. His noise-maker of choice was his running wheel. All night long the metal wheel would squeak. Very annoying.
Then one night the squeaking stopped. Crystal and I thought we were in heaven. A night of peaceful sleep at last. But the peace would be shortlived.
Not thirty minutes later Ben came running into our room, crying. Screaming, "Teddy's dead." Now at this point in the story it would probably be a good time to tell you that I'm from NC. In NC, Teddy and Daddy rhyme.
Through the garble of Ben's hiccupped crying, Crystal and I thought Ben had said that daddy was dead. So we immediately screamed and started going into hysterics. This of course terrified our brother. He started to yell, "I never even thought you liked him." Crystal and I were like "What?" so we stopped our screaming and ran into the living room.
There stood mom holding the dead hamster. How did he die? He hung himself in that wheel he used to torture us all. It was somewhat sad because Ben had really liked that hamster. However, I was very relieved to find that my dad was in his room safe and sound. My brother slept on my parents floor that night, and no talk was ever made of getting another hamster.