That marked the start of Nubby's role as the family escape artist. Everytime I opened the door of his cage to play with him, he would, without fail, fling his little gerbil body onto the floor and skitter behind our Christmas tree to chew on the carpet and do God-knows-what back there. This usually ended with my family forcing me to be the one to have to crawl behind the tree in the middle of gerbil droppings to retrieve Nubby, not exactly the most enjoyable activity, as you might imagine. He also liked to roam the fireplace, where we left his cage. It was usually covered with my brother's toys, and there was nothing funnier than seeing Nubby crawl through a toy house, sniffing curiously at plastic chairs and beds.
After a while, my sister got tired of taking care of Nubby, and she convinced my parents to give him away to our neighbors, where he lived until his untimely death. He was a good pet, despite the fact that he managed to chew up his plastic wheel (which he was strangely terrified of, by the way). Hopefully he's in gerbil heaven now. RIP, buddy.