The other morning around 10a.m., I got a phone call from my wife. I could tell from the caller ID it was from her cell. This was odd because I knew she was on her way to take her physics make up final. She had been stressed all week and for her to call now only meant trouble.
”Hi, what’s up?”, I say, acting like nothing could be wrong.
“You wont believe what happened when I was trying to leave just now?”, she tells me.
Well based on the previous weeks experience, I was betting it was the rat.
“No, what happened?”, I reply, acting as if I was clueless.
“I was opening the blinds in the den, and looked back at Smudge’s cage.”, she said. “He usually comes out when I do that but I didn’t see him.”
Well so far my hunch is playing out. I should have put money on this call. I could have covered a nice steak dinner.
She continued, “I looked in his cage and in his house and I didn’t see him.”
Suprise! He outsmarted her. Not that she would admit it. He had moved a piece of wood that my wife had positioned with a bolt, yes a bolt, in front of the last escape hole.
“He moved the wood piece up”, she said, with a tone of amazement. “And must of sqeezed out. I can’t believe it.”
I can! I can! As I become giddy with amusement. This rat is smarter than me and I admitted it. I think it’s time for my wife to come to grips with this concept, but now the fun part begins. She doesn’t have time to look for him and must try and save his little life. You see our dog Zoe is loose in the basement with just a baby gate to slow her down from charging up the stairs. If that rat makes a turn down the stairs, well lets just say my money is on Zoe. She has captured squirrels and birds. This rat being in a confined area, it would be like shooting fish in a very small bowl. So my wife hurries down stairs and locks Zoe in her cage.
Yipee! The rat will live a little longer. At least Smudge wont die a bloody, violent death, that I am surely not cleaning up. And better yet, who knows what kind of shots Zoe would need. That could be expensive!
Anyway, we hang up knowing that she will have all kinds of fun searching the three levels in the house. Oh, and she does have fun. When I got home I was informed of the great hunt. When she got home from her exam, she started her hunt upstairs with a flash light looking under all the beds, dressers, and anything else that could hide a smart rat. She tried searching in the teenager’s rooms, but gave up quickly since her room looks like the dresser and closet both had a drunken benge with the aftermath spread all over the floor.
With the hunt now finished on the top two floors, my wife strolled down to the basement. She walked in to our large storage room. Looking around, she stopped when she heard a rustling noise in the corner. Making sure that it was neither of the cats, who by the way were tailing my wife during the search. Yeah, cats are usefull. Not.
The noise continued in the corner, so she made her way toward the Christmas boxes. She opened up a box under the stairs, and there he was. This brillant rat of a rat had landed in a box. He must have fallen of the shelf into the box. Who knows how long he had been trapped. So, she tried to grab him, but that was silly. He is in a box, so how many attempts must be made to grab a smart rat? Well, apparently, the answer was 6. He kept trying to jump out, but kept missing. He wasn’t happy. I understood that. You breakout, have free run of the house and you fall in a boobytrap of a box. Maybe the rat isn’t as smart as I give him credit.
Well, he was captured, the wood moved to a different angle to block the hole, and all has been quiet for that last couple of days. The next question, do I let my wife buy a sodering tool to fix the holes? Knowing her luck, and I know hers and her mom’s side of the family, my wife will probably either burn herself or the house.
Oh and to top it off. For the next couple of days, the rat was mad at my wife. Imagine that! Each time she would try to pet him, he would turn his back on her and move away from her. So she became depressed that he didn’t love her anymore. Oh, alligator tears all around.
Did I say how much I love having a chinchilla? Maybe, next time we go for a gold fish. They don’t usally breakout of their homes, do they? I feel like I am living in an I Love Lucy episode that wont break for a commercial.
Perhaps Smudge is lonesome. Have you thought of getting him a companion? Then you all could have twice the fun!!
We tried a friend from the High School, but they fought. So we had to send the friend back.
Maybe he needs more fun in his cage to keep him interested in staying in it? Are there chinchilla toys out there? How about a girl chinchilla?
He has toys. Plenty of them. We can’t give him a girl friend. We don’t need more hellions.
a bigger cage, a whole room?
our chinchillas are free chinchillas, of course we had to cover all corners of gnawing interest. It’s amazing how they enjoy to run free, they aren’t no slow hamsters, they are pretty smart, so being encaged is pretty miserable lifestyle for those. So maybe definitly a goldfish for everybody’s happiness next time.