Chilla.


This is the Chilla. Yes, I realize he looks a little…annoyed. Trying to get a chinchilla to hold still for a photograph isn’t exactly a simple feat, folks. Imagine a toddler after a few Pixy Stix and a Red Bull then you have a slight idea of what I was trying to work with.

The Chilla does not like being restrained.

Unfortunately the only image capturing device I had at my disposal was my cell phone which doesn’t have the best resolution around, and that in tandem with wriggly subject matter = craptastic photo.

Damn he looks bitter. He’s normally very chipper, I assure you. Photo shoots just aren’t his…thing.

I learned a few things when I acquired the Chilla. He was my first Chilla. Now, I don’t know if this is universal with Chillas, but this one likes drywall. I mean, really likes drywall. And baseboards. Books. Toilet paper. Shampoo bottles with shampoo still in them. Electrical cords that are still plugged in.

Now this one requires some…explanation.

I have (had, rather) one of those Oral-B Sonicare what-have-you electric toothbrushes that have the rechargeable batteries in them and the accompanying docks. However, one morning to my dismay I discovered the battery had died. Which was odd, because it remained on it’s charger daily. During the investigation process, I picked up the cord, and in so doing damn near electrocuted myself. Now, at 5’10 and 140lbs picking up this cord with my fingers shot voltage through my arm and really fucking hurt. Now imagine, if you will, being a 0.5-lb ball of fluff roughly the size of a grapefruit with this exposed wire in between your teeth?? Jesus. I’m convinced he is not organic. Maybe I should name him Stitch, or, something. For Chrissake’s.

However…

On the other hand the way he hops around like a kangaroo carrying things in his wee gummy hands and ricochet-ing off of walls is endearing…he has this giant furry rump that you just wanna grab cuz it’s so cute. He doesn’t like the whole rump-grabbing thing, however, and he chirps his discontent and does a 5-inch vertical leap, which, in my opinion, is worth pissing him off.

Another thing I find peculiar about the Chilla is his output seems to far exceed his input. I know I don’t feed him enough to generate the mess I see in his cage on a daily basis…I mean, honestly…there has to be some kind of flaw in the metabolic processes of chinchillas that pulls matter into their intestinal tracts from other dimensions during digestion or something. Can Chilla crap bilocate? I mean, I let him bounce around the glass door-encased shower stall (no drywall to binge on) and within 2 minutes, it’s a literal shitstorm in there. I mean, seriously…I’m convinced if I put him on a fast for a week he would excrete just as much. That can’t possibly be healthy.

But he’s still cute and sweet and soft as hell and I love his little gummy feet and giant ears and the dopey look he gets on his face when I scratch between them. And I think he’s hella-cooler then my housemate’s cranky-ass cats. I think I’ll keep him.

It’s just the excess feces production and the whole living on drywall and electrical current that freaks me out.

Voulez-voulez-vous ch-ch-ch-Chilla…

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