For those of you who don’t know, this is a chinchilla. Apparently, somewhere down the evolutionary ladder a rabbit mated with a guinea pig and this was the result. Okay, that’s speculation, but it seems like a reasonable theory.

This little guy’s name is Ferb, his brother Phineas is in their cage. (Those of you with children will likely understand the names.) Ferb has a bit of a problem. He developed a rash on his leg, and began to chew it. For the last week he has been getting antibiotics and medicated powder. This morning he went vampire and had chewed his leg bloody all the way into the ligaments. So, back to the vet. Now he has a cast and a collar.

It’s funny because he’s a rodent. And he lives in my house – albeit not without some thinly veiled hostility from me. If memory serves, I live in house at least partly because I wanted to keep rodents out. In fact, I believe my ancestors made the same decision for the last several hundred years. And I have thrown that to the wind by not only inviting him in, but giving him shelter and medical attention.

For those of you who thought the title referred to how the little critter looked, it doesn’t. It is aimed squarely at the people he lives with, me included. I have officially acted in a manner to potentially realize the 18 to 20 years life span of a rodent, living in my house, that I hate. Ugh.