We lost our beloved chinchilla today. I had known for a while that things were not quite right, her eating was off and she went through a bout of diarrhea. I thought things were maybe getting better but yesterday I felt she was leaving. When we got home for the night, she was laying as if asleep inside her little wooden house.
Her name was Chili, but we mostly called her Chilla. She was a rescued animal like most of ours are. Clients had her bought her on a whim from Trump Tower, of all places, for their teenage daughter. The newness of an exotic pet wore off rather quickly so she came to live with us. At the time, we had a lone chinchilla who had been confiscated by our local animal control in a drug bust. So, Chocolate and Chili took up residence together in a cage on our kitchen table. It took up the entire kitchen table. Chinchillas are interesting creatures and have the softest and most dense fur of any mammal. Our girls were not meant to be coats, though, and they entertained one another and us for several years. I hate to admit it, but I have no idea right now how long they lived with us. The last year or so, Chilla lived alone after Chocolate lost her battle with cancer. She never left her side, even in death. They are now together again.
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