I was reminded of him by a friend's blog post about her pet rats.
If you don't know what a chinchilla is, look it up. Basically, they kind of look like a rat/rabbit/squirrel/guinea pig. Their fur is super duper soft and for some reason, we decided to buy one when we were first married. We had no children and it seemed like a good idea. Plus, we both made approximately $7 per hour, so the $200 we spent on it seemed like nothing. Obviously, we are champions in the budgeting department. Why Dave Ramsey never called us to be his poster children is beyond me. But I digress.
So our chinchilla's name was Garth. Garth lived in a cage in our basement. Sometimes we would let him out to run around. He was super fast and when he would get going really good, he would jump REALLY high and literally bounce off the walls. (According to Wikipedia, they can jump up to 6 feet high.) I only let him out when Superfrydad was home, because he was the only one who could catch the little booger. The trick to catching him was to grab him by the tail & hang him upside down so he couldn't bite you with his little beaver teeth.
One night, I was home alone. Superfrydad was working night shift. I was in bed, half-asleep, and I thought I heard footsteps. So of course, I just opened my eyes ever so slightly to try and appear still sleeping to any would be murderers. I lay there listening and then I saw something MOVE. Really fast. And it wasn't a mouse. It was bigger. It was Garth.
It took me forever to catch him. I finally threw a towel over him and caught him. I don't like to touch animals if I can avoid it. Even soft ones that people use to make coats out of.
Chasing a chinchilla around in the middle of the night is not my idea of a good time. He's a lucky chinchilla that I
That's my chinchilla tale. The end.