Teeth of Steel

3 MORE DAYS UNTIL NIMBUS'S BIRTHDAY!!!!! 

The house is buzzing with excitement these days. Nimbus's birthday is almost here. I still cannot believe I've owned him for a year now. All the moments of adorable-ness, all the moments of frustration, the destroyed remote buttons, the chewed homework, the stolen Hershey kisses, the flying pumice dust, the Cheerio tricks, all the moments of a fulfilling sense of companionship from owning a chinchilla. I won't lie. There were a lot of times I wondered why on earth had I adopted one of these crazy rodents. I wanted to give up. But, after this last month, I've realized just how much I love that ball of fluff. I'm a chinchilla lover now, but in reality, I'm a HUGE NIMBUS LOVER!! I may never own a chinchilla again, but I will always treasure whatever time I'm lucky enough to have with my Nimbus Cloud.

* * * * 

Chinchilla teeth can cut through anything, it seems like. Picture the scarab beetles from The Mummy (character spoiler in clip below). 

Ok, maybe they're not that bad, but the damage a chinchilla can cause is unbelievable. Arguably, the start-up costs will be the most expensive bills you pay for owning a chinchilla. In my opinion, it's damage control. Assuming your chinchilla never needs an emergency vet clinic visit like Nimbus, your chinchilla savings will go fast with the purchase of a sturdy cage and the accessories. However, once I move out of here, I'll be spending money on house repairs!!! 

This was where he first damaged the house.

This corner belongs in what is now Chris's bedroom. When I first moved into the house, it was my bedroom. But, when I chucked out my ex (We stayed in separate rooms. I don't know how people do this whole 100% living together in the same bed and all thing. Ya'll crazy and possess some insane patience!), I moved into the second bedroom, and the vacant room became the Chinchilla Room. It was such a relief. I could drop Nimbus off and let him run around without worrying about whether if he was under the oven or somewhere unsafe. He could no longer chew on my couch or get up on the kitchen counters via the couch. I would sit with him, working on my laptop or reading a book. However, I would also pop out to grab something to eat or homework I needed. I would take my time because Nimbus was safe and locked up in his special room. ...I returned to find him gnawing to China on the wall corner. The Chinchilla Room didn't last much longer for several reasons.

Baseboards are another treat. I hope I can paint this over with a few dabs of a similarly colored paint. It's not as noticeable as it looks. You can see Sansa's back leg on the left, and she's standing in the bathroom doorway. The baseboards face the washing machine/dryer. There's enough room for 1.5 persons to get through that little hallway. No one's really looking at the baseboards.

This next instance is my favorite because I didn't know it was scientifically possible! That is right next to the living room window overlooking the river.

It's mobile home wallpaper. That stuff is sucked tight into all the corners and seams of the house with tight perfection. There was no damage there before - no curled up edges, no miniscule tears. And then, here comes Nimbus. RIP! When I heard the noise, I whipped my head over and gaped at what I saw. How? What? But why?!? A beige strip stuck straight out of Nimbus's mouth, quivering from the motion of his whiskers. Then, he ate it like a potato chip!

Nimbus's teeth are not limited to walls and baseboards. They also greatly enjoy different objects and furniture in my living room. He either hates Will & Grace or that DVD box tastes like vanilla ice cream! 

My leather couch looks like a German Shepherd attacked it. Nope, just Nimbus.

I posted this on our Twitter page last night. I was sitting on the couch last night, and it was Chris who kept deterring Nimbus from getting behind the couch. Unbeknownst to me, the chinchilla wasn't attempting a behind-the-couch mission. He was chewing the heating pad cord draped down the back - something I'd completely forgotten about. If *someone* had just mentioned what the rodent was going after in the first place, we'd be spared a lot of grief, and I wouldn't need to purchase a new heating pad this week.

Finally, Nimbus's favorite not-allowed chew toy is a book or two. Clive Barker, Tolkien, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Irving, Rawlings... he doesn't mind. As long as it has pages and a spine, Nimbus is set on destroying a good book! To my English major friends, this is a punishable offense. Most likely by firing squad!

Clearly, I have more work ahead of me providing Nimbus with a safe household. You should not allow your chins to eat objects like these, and we try our best to discourage Nimbus from this activity. The couch is covered with blankets and pillows. The cat bed is pressed up against the bottom of the DVD shelf. We pay attention to where cords are in accordance to where Nimbus can reach. And, I say all this because I don't want you all to think I just let Nimbus jump around and get away with murder. These photos show past mistakes or lack of diligence on my part. Books, couches and DVDs are not snack items in any capacity. We do actually put out chew toys across the living room floor for him to play with, but it certainly doesn't look that way!

The point of this post was to get a laugh, a nod of understanding/sympathy and to ultimately point out (to a future owner) that if you're not in for the long haul, then a chinchilla is not a right pet for you. If you're in a smaller home with not many options for playrooms, these are what your belongings could look like. I didn't know this when I brought Nimbus into my home. I knew he'd chew, but I would have never pictured this. But, to me, they're just objects. As long as he never hurts himself, I'm not going to get upset over their destruction. I will discipline him and move him away, but the already inflicted damage doesn't cause me any concern. The heating pad... well, it was a disappointment, but its demise won't stop me from loving Nimbus. It's just one of the major aspects to consider before bringing in one of these bizarre, beautiful animals into your own. Chinchillas are not impulse buys!

Follow us on Twitter @ChillWithNimbus

A Turn for the Worst

My grandmother often complains about doctors and how they don't know anything helpful or accurate. She's dead certain that they're quacks, and in a small way, I believe her. I definitely felt this way heading to the emergency vet with Nimbus. Something just didn't sit right with me during the examination and after they handed him back to us. I should have trusted that feeling... Unfortunately, I was right.

Yesterday was supposed to be a happy day of celebration, dusts baths and relief. Nimbus was going to get his stitches out, and life would be restored to normal. No more corralling him on the bed. No more syringes with nasty medicine. No more stress.

Photo from http://scdocorg.files.wordpress.com

We entered our local vet to the great enjoyment of everyone there. Most had never seen a chinchilla nor petted its soft fur. Nimbus was a celebrity! One veterinarian assistant said, "I didn't know what it was until I looked it up on the Internet just now."

When Nimbus's fans settled down, Dr. Wall and two assistants held him down to examine his stitches... Except, there were no stitches!

Every single one had popped out, or Nimbus had taken them out. Not that it would have mattered if he did. By the size of Dr. Wall's frown, I knew REACH had messed up.

The wound was completely exposed. Although Chris and I had seen several stitches on Nimbus's arm two days before, they were gone now. The last one sat on the exam table with a tuft of fluffy gray fur attached to it. I had to turn away, and I began to feel my legs give way at the horrible sight of it. Nothing had healed. Nothing was better. We were right back the start of all.

Dr. Wall explained that REACH had used the wrong type of stitches, ones that require some very tight tying and glue to hold the knots in place. Dr. Wall insinuated that REACH should have known better and didn't understand why those were used. I had shelled out hundreds of dollars to that emergency vet with nothing to show for it except worthless medical assistance. In my opinion, REACH's only help was discovering Nimbus didn't have a sprained or broken leg. Everything else was shredded money.

Photo from chinchillaclub.com

Dr. Wall wanted the wound to remain open instead of putting Nimbus through stitches again. By looking at the cut, he noticed that there was healthy pink tissue regenerating and that the injury should scab over and heal on its own. He prescribed us two weeks of antibiotics - here we go again with that one - and scheduled us an appointment for next Tuesday.

"If the wound starts to open more, you need to bring him back in," he said.

As I carried Nimbus in the cat carrier out to the car, I didn't feel the biting winds and finger-aching cold. I was already numb from such disappointment, stress and worry. I couldn't believe it. I also felt an overwhelming, choking anger boiling up my throat. The wrong stitches??? THE WRONG STITCHES?!?! What does that even mean, "the wrong stitches??" If that's the reputation of those stitches, that they need glue to just hold the knots in place, why on earth were they used on my chinchilla in the first place??!?!?!

Angry and in tears, the ride home was very silent.  I put Nimbus back in his cage, told him to go to sleep and get some rest, then went out into the living room to stare at a wall. My mind tried to process this tragedy, this horrible mistake. Dr. Wall said he'd need 2 more weeks of recovery time with medication through syringe twice a day! No dust bath. No playtime. When he said no playtime, I stood up.

"He has to be able to play," I said. "A chinchilla's health and happiness depend on him being able to run around and explore."

I said this to Chris later, "If anything, Nimbus is going to hurt himself more by trying to get out of the cage and throwing tantrums by flying around and banging against the walls."

Dr. Wall relented, thankfully. However, Nimbus will no longer play in my room or on the bed. Instead, we have created the perfect, safe chin play area we possibly could in the living room. No more running into the kitchen. No more jumping up on the bookshelf. No more sneaking behind the couch, thanks to a lot of cardboard alcohol boxes Chris picked up from the ABC store. Nimbus can hop around on the carpet, chew on his toys, and that's it! Still, he can't have a dust bath. There's no way we can allow Blue Cloud dust to get into that open injury.

Photo from annarboranimalhospital.com

That afternoon, Chris went to pick up the medication. However, the WalMart pharmacy said they didn't have it.

"But, the vet called me this morning and told me it was ready," I told Chris on the phone.

Still, there was no medication. This morning on my way out the door, I called the vet again.

"Yes, my chinchilla Nimbus was prescribed medication by Dr. Wall yesterday. When we went to pick it up, WalMart didn't have it."

"Ok," replied the receptionist. "I'll take care of that. I'll call them right now."

Six hours later, Chris returned to the gigantic chain store to pick up the medication. The pharmacy said they didn't have it. So, I called the vet again. They answered that WalMart had told them it was ready to be picked up. My temper started to flare. On the phone, I sharply told Chris to get aggressive and get that medication.

Poor Chris stood in line and at the counter trying to convince these people they had Nimbus's medication for 30 minutes! Once again, we encountered the chinchilla conumdrum. I think there needs to be a Chinchilla Awareness campaign. The guy helping Chris had no clue what a chinchilla was or why we were giving it a generic form of bactrim. Finally, they located our medication. And, here's why it was missing for two days:

Yeah, that's not how you spell my last name.

What Chris should have said to the pharmacy was, "I know with complete certainty that there is no other medication back there prescribed to the first name of Nimbus. Can you please search for Nimbus?"

It's just been roadblock after roadblock. At this point, I just want Nimbus to get better. Please, please, let him get better. I want my beautiful chinchilla to be happy and healthy again, to be able to roll around in his beloved dust bathtub, to scamper through the house, to use the bedroom door in order to "wall surf." He acts fine, but what if it gets infected? What if he suddenly becomes sicker in the middle of the night? I can't take him back to REACH. I would never. And, there's only so much money left in my bank account. What if that runs out before he gets better? How do you choose between not spending money and your pet's life? My mind can't stop reeling from all the "What ifs?" At this rate, both Nimbus and I will be sick, one from an injury and the other from stress.

Photo from clipartof.com

So What Happened to Nimbus?

There's a poll going on to the right of your screen that asks what you think happened to Nimbus. His accident of a cut under his arm which required stitches is still a completely mystery. There are several different scenarios I can come up with, but each one of them has some sort of loophole that doesn't add up.

The night at REACH Animal Hospital was a crazy blur of events that I'd rather forget. There wasn't time to ask as many questions as I'd have liked about what was going on. Instead, it was lot of paperwork being shoved my way requesting permission for the next procedure and verifying that I understood how much the cost would go up if I did sign. So, I sent an email to Dr. Gibson on Sunday asking specific questions.

1. What did the cut look like exactly?
2. Were there other scrapes around it, like what a cat's paw would leave behind?
3. Why didn't we see any blood at home or on the way to REACH?
4. Was the cut deep or just on the surface?
5. How many stitches did it take?

Today, I got a response.

"I'm so glad to hear that Nimbus is doing well. The laceration could have been from a cat claw, a sharp piece of metal, or something similar. Chinchillas have very fragile skin. There is no way to know what caused it. There was exposed muscle under the cut but the cut was just through the skin. Most cuts don't bleed a lot unless a large blood vessel is cut as well."

Well, now I know the extent of the injury, but I'm back at square one. I can't just bubble wrap the entire house, so what do I do? I must closely examine the situation.

Scenario A: Sansa the cat made a grab at him. As much as I may want to put the blame on Sansa, I don't think she's the culprit. To blame Sansa is the easy way out. It relieves any guilt I will feel when I do give her up to a new home. However, I can't imagine how she would have made such a cut. From that night, I remember that Nimbus was out playing. When he was put up for a break, Sansa was let out of Chris's bedroom. She made an attempt at swiping at Nimbus, so she was promptly locked up again. I can't remember if she actually touched the cage, but if she had, she would have hit Nimbus's left side. His cut is on the upper part of his right arm. The cut starts on one side of his bicep then travels underneath the arm where the scapula connects to the humerus in humans (I don't know if chinchilla bones go by the same name). So, basically, his armpit. Now, how could Sansa have possibly stuck her claws into the cage, raked Nimbus's skin under his upper arm (which is typically buried deep into his thick chest fur) and on his right side?? When Nimbus sits on his lava ledge, he exposes his left side to the front cage wall. If he showed his right side, his face would be right up against the right cage wall. And unless Nimbus was pressed firmly against the cage wall, Sansa would not be able to get her claws close enough to lock under his arm like that. So, there's that.

Sansa in the snow yesterday.

Scenario B: He cut himself on his cage.This is the only plausible explanation I can come up with. So, his cage is made of metal... all metal. Looking at the actual cage itself, Nimbus would have cut himself on one of two things: the latches that hold the door closed or the rings that keep the cage together. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. But, when Chris and I looked again a few days later, we saw some rings that weren't put on properly. Thanks for that, my darling ex... Anyway, to put on these little metal rings, you need a special tool that is shipped with the cage from Martin's Cages. Securing the rings is - excuse my language - an absolute bitch of a job! And if you're sick and tired of doing it... then you tend to slack off and just get it around the bars enough to where the walls will stay together. Should the rings not be fully tightened, the sharp edges are left exposed, pointing inside and outside the cage. I hope that makes some sense. (We just returned from the stitches-removing vet visit, and it did not end well... I'm a bit frazzled at the moment.) So, if one of the rings were exposed and Nimbus reached up with his arms against the cage wall, as he does regularly to get my attention, it is possible that when he brought his arm down that he caught a ring underneath his right arm and cut himself. But, we just saw the wound today clearly at the vet. It is right up under his armpit. To go that far back into his arm would mean that Nimbus plastered himself against a cage wall and dragged himself down back to the floor instead of pulling back and collecting his paws together like normal. Another loophole to this idea is that the rings hold together the walls and floors. How would a chinchilla stick his body that close to the corner of a cage to injure his arm? Same thing with the door latches, but they curve downward. If he were to cut himself on the door latch, the injury would have been on the top of his arm. I just... Argh, this is frustrating!

The door latches on Nimbus's cage, which is currently in its recovery set-up

Scenario C: The sharp edge of a toy. What if Nimbus jumped up to the third level of his cage (technically the fourth floor) and caught his arm on the corner of his Chinchiller? Sometimes, the Chinchiller hangs off the edge the top floor just a little. Could he have cut his underarm on the corner of the granite slab as he jumped up to sit on it? Chris is now examining the Chinchiller. No, it's too dull as we discovered. Chris raked the corner of the Chinchiller across his arm. Oh dear gosh, I pray he never does that again! I feel woozy now. While the Chinchiller may be a possibility, it's still unlikely. Looking at his other toys, none of them have sharp edges because that'd be dangerous. He has his hanging chew toy, two wooden logs, a Chinnie Buddy, hay play mat aaannnddd, yeah, that's it. He also has a beloved plush rabbit puppet, but of course, that's soft and cuddly. I've got nothing, absolutely nothing!

Nimbus sitting on his Chinchiller. A bad photo, I apologize.

Scenario D: He did it to himself. I'm not even sure what I mean by that. Is it possible for him to accidentally cut himself with his teeth? Surely, Nimbus would realize how much pressure to apply while grooming himself. So, I'm throwing out Scenario D completely.

Scenario E: He cut his arm on an object in his play area. I have scowered every corner of the living room and kitchen. I found nothing. I found nothing!! At first, I suspected the keys on the "Random Objects Table." But, the cut would have been jagged and needed a significant amount of pressure to cause such a wound as Dr. Gibson described. It couldn't have been the bookshelf, the DVD tower, any of the cat toys, the couch, the dining table, his dust bathtub, the dining chairs, the television, the cat food bin, and we pick up all of our belongings off the floor. Now, if he somehow escaped into the bathroom, well then, it couldn't be the toilet paper package, the paper towel package, the litter box or the toilet. I'm running out of objects in the house. My second gut feeling belonged to the cat tree, which Nimbus can run under and will occasionally jump on the first level. He comes in contact with five of the actual scratching posts. The rope circling the posts are held together by staples and glue. I've had to replace one post because of deterioration and exposure of the staples (see lighter scratching post in photo below). The other posts are safe. I ran my hands over all the posts that Nimbus is around. I felt no staples, no sharp edges, nothing that could hurt him.

Sparta's cat scratching tower

There must be something that I'm missing, some scenario that's staring me right in the face. I pray it's not his cage, the one place he spends the most time. And, I certainly hope it wasn't one of us, though how we scratched him doesn't draw any likelihood in my mind. Which leaves only one question, the one question I've been asking myself constantly and posting in this blog repeatedly: How do I keep Nimbus safe from harm when I can't find the source?

Taken by Chris

Heading to the Vet (Video)

Notice how happy and excited we are on the way to the vet. It's Day 10, and Nimbus was going to get his stitches out. As I try to put him in the carrier, you can hear his angry, defensive noise. However, the trip back from the vet was not so happy. Actually, it was very silent and involved a lot of tears.

Nimbus is still alive and quite alert. However, we hit a huge snag in his recovery. We're looking at another 2 weeks. I'll explain in a second post. Meanwhile, here's us heading to the animal hospital 15 minutes up the road. If you can't view the video, try this link that will take you directly to it on YouTube.

Recovery Update

Nimbus is doing well these days. Tomorrow, he will take the last of his pain killers/anti-inflammatory medication. The antibacterial will end on Monday evening. Last night, we noticed his purple stitches were more prominently showing, and Chris suggested that as the wound closed that they were being pushed out. But, I'm worried that he's messing with them. We can't watch him 24/7, but what if he does pull them out? We'll be back to where we started. It's just a headache.

He gets his stitches taken out on Thursday at 8:45 a.m. So, we have just under a week left to go. I've been slowly adding features back into his cage. Yesterday morning, I screwed in his pink lava ledge, which he's been very appreciative of. I also moved his metal hay holder, which dangles from the ceiling on a chain, to its normal location beside the lava ledge. He loves sitting up there, munching on hay. I also placed his Chinchiller back on the top floor next to his cuddle ledge. Gradually, his life is returning to normal. Personally, I believe the faster the better, but I don't want him to become overwhelmed.

For not taking a full body dust bath, his fur is surprisingly fluffy and clean. I'm sure he's grooming himself more without that dust bath. Furthermore, I know I complained earlier about losing our bond because I was sick and had to stay away from him. I shouldn't have complained. This injury has brought us closer together, but if that's what it took for him to bond, then I'd rather have never bonded at all. At least then he would have stayed safe and healthy.

Nimbus recovering.  His lava ledge and hay feeder are on the right.

Days 2 and 3

Day 2:

9:00 a.m. Nimbus gets his first dose of medicine. As a reward, we give him a pinch of dust to roll his cheek against. Eyes are bright. Still drinking water. No problems during the night.

9:40 a.m. Time for Nimbus's second medication. I take him out of his cage, wrap him in his blanket and hold him for Chris to give the syringe. Unfortunately, I wasn't holding tight enough and slips out of my grasp. Running through the cat water bowl and under the bed, we face a dilemma of how to safely get him back. However, his sense of adventure takes over, and he comes out on his own! I pick him up, and we get the medicine down. 

11:00 a.m. Give Nimbus his playlist.

12:12 p.m. Leave to run some quick errands, take iPod with me.

3:13 p.m. Check on Nimbus after being home for a few hours. He is up, moving around and eating. His eyes look much better! 

5:26 p.m. Nimbus barks from his cage. I check on and calm him down with a chin rub. Unsure of what set him off. 

8:30 p.m. Nimbus is allowed to play on the bed. He's nervous at first because a friend is over, but he's met her before. He scampers across the blanket draped over the bed. As a reward for his suffering, I fill a necklace box lid with some dust. He bathes and rolls his face in the box lid, overjoyed. Sadly, I realize that the ointment around his eyes that bother him so much is a process we'll have to go through again. When he gets his stitches out, there will be more ointment as he'll have to go under. I worry about money. 

9:05 p.m. Nimbus gets his third syringe of medication. He struggles, and Chris gets 2/3 of the medicine in. He goes to put in the rest, but Nimbus is at his limit. I refuse to put him through anymore and allow him to play on the bed again. We worry about how his stitches are doing. So, Chris brings out a Cheerio and gets Nimbus to balance on his back feet while reaching out with his paws for the treat. I'm able to see his shaved arm and the stitches. Everything looks normal. 

12:30 a.m. When cleaning Nimbus's cage of loose hay and dropping, the chinchilla makes his escape!   Although the door was open, we quickly retrieve him back into the bedroom. Then, we bribe and coax and corral for about 7 minutes until at last I capture him from under the bed.

Photo from memecenter.com

Day 3: 

Zero sleep occurs during the night. I wake up in a terrible mood. 

9:05 a.m. Nimbus is sleepy and moody, like me. We give him both morning doses of medication to get it over with. He pees on my hand but otherwise takes it quite well. 

11:00 a.m. I get my oil changed in town while Chris stays home with Nimbus and Sparta.

4:40 p.m. Nimbus is awake and bouncing around. I can tell he's been eating. Haven't heard him drinking, grinding his teeth against the metal tube of the water bottle. 

8:00 p.m. Time for play on the bed. I clean the top floors and blankets in his cage. At the end of playtime, I start his playlist on the iPod. 

9:10 p.m. Nimbus gets his last dose of medicine for today. He takes it relatively easy then is released onto the bed for playtime. Chris creates a game of Find the Cheerio with cups and small boxes while I clean the bottom tray of the cage. I clear out all the bedding, droppings, etc. then clean the bottom with cage cleaner. After spreading out new bedding, I'm allowed to join in the fun with Nimbus. 

11:18 p.m. Nimbus gets to play one last time before lights out. 

Photo from memecenter.com

Day 1

11:15 a.m. Wake up after a restless night and check on Nimbus. He is still hidden underneath his wooden house and after some coaxing, he comes out and moves to his second level. He eats a little bit of Timothy hay and snuggles with stuffed bunny. He keeps scratching at his eyes, which are still wet from some type of ointment used at the vet. His fur is matted, and his eyes look irritated. He rubs his face against his lava rock ledge, which has become a chew toy, in order to scratch himself. Completely distraught, I put some chinchilla dust in my hand, which he delightedly rolls against. Then, I place a little handful on his fleece mat. It is just enough for his face, and he draws his paw close to his body. However, he never drank any water.

11:45 a.m. Left Nimbus a soft music playlist going to keep him company and to keep him calm.

2:22 p.m. Call my regular vet to schedule an appointment to remove the stitches 10 days from now. They say I might have to leave him in order for them to observe him for negative effects of the anthesia. "So, you'll need to bring in his cage," the receptionist says. "Um," I reply, "his cage is 4 feet tall! Um, but he has a carrier!" 

2:30 p.m. Check on Nimbus. He takes a few fingertips of water from me but refuses his bottle. Eyes are still irritated. He eats a few Oxbow pellets from his radish bowl. Goes back into the wooden house soon after. 

2:45 p.m. Update the playlist so he'd have music when I step out of the house. Sadly, and I hate to do this, but I can't wait on these particular errands, like depositing money into my bank account after that huge vet bill last night. 

3:00 p.m. Call REACH to ask Dr. Gibson questions concerning Nimbus's lack of drinking. She does not come in for her shift until the 5 p.m. tonight. The vet on staff says Nimbus will be able to wait until then. Very unsure whether that doctor knows what he is talking about.... Also, have questions about Nimbus's medication, so I need to chat with Gibson anyway. 

3:35 p.m. Left the house to run my errands. 

4:45 p.m. Chris returns home to care for Nimbus. He sends me startling text messages that Nimbus is looking quite unwell and still won't drink water. His eyes look worse. 

5:08 p.m. I am finally able to leave the Verizon store. Really? I just want to get home to my chinchilla, people. At least they were very nice and apologetic. 

5:10 p.m. Get in touch with Dr. Gibson. After listening to my description of Nimbus's situation, she thinks it is best to bring him back to REACH. However, I cannot afford a second office visit. Instead, we will try some home methods to get him going again. 

5:25 p.m. Arrive at Harold's Supermarket. Purchase raisins, apples and baby food. 

5:50 p.m. Arrive home. Cut up apples as a source for water for Nimbus. By the time I get home, his eyes are looking significantly better. We try giving him apples. He takes one nibble and then refuses. Clearly, he's not an apple kind of chinchilla. Then, we have to give him his medication. After a long struggle, Chris is able to get the dose in his mouth in one go. He goes back in his cage with the most miserable look on his face, and I burst into tears. For the thousandth time, I wish animals could talk, and I hope that they can understand just how much I don't want to do these painful things to them. But, I have to.

7:43 p.m. Try to feed him baby food (carrot) mixed with water with a small spoon, and he isn't interested in the slightest. Left the bowl and a small cup of water in his cage. Still not drinking. He is being active, however, hobbling around his cage.

9:00 p.m. Let Nimbus play on my bed. I know he's not supposed to be out of his cage. But, eyes are bright. Ears are alert. He bounces on the fuzzy blanket and among the pillows. He establishes his Timothy hay bungalow as his safety place. He chewed the top off long ago so uses the open roof to look out for danger. I will not try to pick him up when he's in the bungalow to establish trust.

9:12 p.m. At the end of play time, try to get water down his throat with eye dropper. When he becomes too excited, I hold him until he calms down. Only get a little water in, but it's better than nothing. Will try again in an hour. This time, we'll go with water first then reward with play time on the bed. Take bowl of baby food out of cage.

10:08 p.m. OMG OMG HE'S DRINKING!!! HE'S DRINKING WATER!!! HE'S FINALLY DRINKING WATER!! YES, YES, YES!!!!

11:00 p.m. One final round around before bedtime. Significant improvement in attitude, energy and overall well being. Once returned to cage, Nimbus begins drinking.

Nimbus was not a fan of baby food.

The 1:30 a.m. Car Ride

Last night, I burst into quiet tears when I saw that Nimbus wasn't putting weight on his right front paw. Instead, it was tucked deep into his furry chest. He wouldn't come out of his cage or even his wooden house...where he never goes in the first place. Immediately, I called REACH, the region's 24/7 emergency animal hospital.

As we drove through the foggy and rainy highways to Asheville, I tried to imagine every situation possible of how he could have injured himself. I knew his foot was broken or sprained or something had happened with a ligament. The roads were disgusting and dangerous. Chris tried to round each curve as gentle as possible in the slippery, wet conditions. Meanwhile, Nimbus scrabbled and tried to chew his way through the carrier. He could have done it, too. Nimbus's carrier is also Sparta's. It's a cat carrier made of tough cloth and rubber mesh. It would take Nimbus 10 minutes or so to figure out how to escape. I tried every way of shushing him, even sticking my hand in the carrier. He let me stroke him for about a minute. Then, he realized how my hand was in the carrier with him. Biting and kicking, he tried to shove my hand out of the way to freedom.

Finally, we arrived at the emergency vet at 2 in the morning. REACH is a beautiful facility located just off I-40. There are two waiting rooms, one for dogs and one for cats. We choose the cat waiting area since there were two dogs and their owners waiting for help. I filled out all the paperwork. And then, we waited as Nimbus scrabbled, chewed, barked and tried to dig his way out of the carrier. He did manage to succeed in pulling apart a few of the rubber strands. Holding my heavy winter coat over the carrier to protect him from the fluorescent lights, I hoped to comfort him. However, with my scratchy, nearly nonexistent voice from the respiratory infection, I must have sounded like an alien frog to him. Finally, we were called back.

I'm not sure why the nurse assistant brought out a scale for a cat, but she did. She blamed the scale for not reading the weight of Nimbus and malfunctioning, but I'm beginning to think that the scale didn't even pick up Nimbus's presence at all. He's supposed to weigh about a pound, but it's all fluff. Finally, she brought in a much more appropriate scale, jotted it down along with his injury details and left for the vet. Nimbus, eyes bright and ears alert, kept hopping on the examination table then back into the carrier as he made short adventures to explore this world. It was the last time I saw him as my beautiful, happy, perky Nimbus.

Dr. Gibson was our vet, and she immediately went for Nimbus to examine his foot. I prayed that she'd have better luck than I and that we could just move along with a diagnose. No such luck. As she wrestled with my chinchilla, I had to hold back tears and tell myself this was all for his benefit. He certainly didn't take it that way. Chirping. Barking. Biting. Struggling. A tiny painful squeak. It makes me sick to remember it. But, what else was she supposed to do? In the end, Nimbus escaped into the carrier, and Dr. Gibson announced that they needed to take an X-ray. To do so, anesthesia was needed. My heart jumped to my throat. To sign that paperwork and hover a pen over whether to agree to resuscitate Nimbus if necessary, I suddenly couldn't remember a more important decision in my lifetime. I checked Yes, and then wondered why. What type of traumatic stress would he go through in order to get him back from death? Wasn't all this pain enough? Was I so selfish that I couldn't let him go peacefully?

When they took my baby away, I collapsed against the cushioned bench with tears streaking my face. I hugged his bunny to my chest and prayed and prayed. Chris ushered me out into the waiting. By now it was 2:45 a.m. Chris kept making comments about their frog tank, the different magazines and if I wanted a cup of coffee before I just snapped at him. When I'm handling a crisis, I don't want anyone near me. If I'm in physical or emotional pain, you better give me a wide berth because I'll take your head off. If I ever have a child (which isn't in my life plan at the moment), God help the father if he so much as shows up in the room.

At 3:15, Dr. Gibson returned and her diagnose left me speechless. The X-rays showed no broken bones. It was a healthy chinchilla skeleton, the scariest image I've come across. First, there's a standard rodent skeleton but with the outline of his large velvety ears and his large teeth. I was terrified!

"So, he has a large laceration on his bicep that goes under and around his arm," said Dr. Gibson.

My jaw dropped. Chris didn't say a word. Our minds with buzzing with how on earth could he have gotten an injury like that? I could only think that there must be a sharp edge in his cage because how could Sansa have gotten a claw under his upper arm, a body part that is usually tucked into the fur of his chest... I still can't figure it out, and it torments me. How am I supposed to keep it from happening again if I don't know what IT is??

Dr. Gibson stitched Nimbus up while Chris and I waited and waited and prayed and prayed. I just wanted my baby to wake up. I couldn't stand the thought of him under the spell of drugged sleep. When we saw him again, I rushed into the room. There was my little chinchilla with large wet circles around his eyes and a fat cast on his right arm. I've never seen such a miserable creature. My heart broke at his pain and his misery. But, it only got worse. Nimbus is required to ingest medication twice a day. There is the antibacterial liquid every 12 hours but then there's the pain medication every 24 hours. Whether or not this stuff is good for his fragile digestive system, I can't tell you. I just had to trust them, and there's a big part of me that doesn't. It's not because they're bad vets or because it's a horrible facility. On the contrary, it is a beautiful place, and everyone we encountered was extremely helpful. I just don't trust my baby with anyone else but me. To watch this male assistant shove two syringes of medication into Nimbus's mouth while I held him down left me feeling faint. By the time I received the massive bill at the reception desk, my hands were shaking, and I could feel the blood rushing into my head. My feet kept swaying my body back and forth in impatience to get out the door and into the cool air. $436 ...approximately. For a jobless college graduate, I was at a loss for words. What am I supposed to do? What if he has to go back?? What if it gets worse? Chris and I are supposed to keep constant watch to keep him from pulling out his stitches (that cast lasted about 45 seconds before he sent it flying). How can we keep track of that or make sure he doesn't hurt himself? We walked out the door in silence at 4 a.m.

The little chinchilla cast that lasted 45 seconds

The car ride home was an extremely quiet one. Chris battled the weather again. I tried my best to stay awake, but I kept nodding off with my head suddenly going slack to the left or right of the headrest, pulling me back awake. Still, I kept my hand in Nimbus's carrier. This time, he didn't care about getting out. He huddled against the far corner in fear and pain. I made sure the tips of my fingers were touching a paw or whiskers the whole ride home. I wanted him to know that I loved him and that I wasn't going anywhere. I never wanted any of this to happen. I had to put him through so much pain to heal him.

At about 5:30 a.m., I finally laid my head on my pillow. We moved Nimbus's cage into my bedroom against the wall where he is safe and secure. Chris went over the cage inch by inch and found nothing to cause such a cut. We removed the lava rock ledges, added extra chew toys, took down his hammock and lowered a wooden ledge to keep him as comfortable as possible as well as removing any strenuous activity. But, here's the kicker: For the next 10 days, my baby Nimbus - who loves everything about being a chinchilla from his dust bath to "wall surfing" to scampering across the couch - is not allowed outside of his cage or to take a dust bath. He must then go back to the vet, go under anesthesia again and get the stitches removed. How do you explain to an animal that you aren't being cruel or unfair or hateful toward them when you can't give them anything that might make them feel a little bit better because it could hurt them?? All these posts I've written about cage boredom and the importance of setting aside 1-2 hours a night of playtime for your chinchilla and I can't give that to my own. It breaks my heart to know that his is just as broken. I'm at a complete loss. If you could just see him... his sad little face... I'm so thankful he's still alive, but I don't know how to get through this without either him getting hurt or him never trusting me again. As he gets his energy back, it's only going to get much worse.

Nimbus's pain meds

A Near Loss

Yesterday, right before I wrote my post about introducing Sansa and Nimbus outside of the cage, a horrible incident took place.

Nimbus was playing in the hallway next to the washing machine and dryer.  My roommate Chris suddenly decided that he needed something from his room, the same room where Sansa is locked up while Nimbus is playing. Sitting on the couch, I heard a loud "Shit!" then saw a blur of brown fur followed by a human run across the living room, into the kitchen and down the hallway. Normally, I wouldn't get up on such an occasion but look on, knowing that Chris could handle the situation. But something was different this time, and I flew off the couch right as I heard a loud, angry hiss from the cat then Chris, with the beast in hand, shouldered past me. I immediately scrambled to find Nimbus.

Chris feeding Nimbus a cheerio

"Where is he?" I shouted. 

"He's under the washer," answered Chris. 

Bending down, I could barely make out Nimbus's form in the dark because he was so far in the back. I started making soft shushing noises, trying to convince him that everything was ok. But, he was having none of it. Instead, he began releasing a harsh barking noise, which means "I'm scared, and if you come near me, I'm going to bite." I was furious and stood to face an embarrassed-looking Chris.

"CHRIS! WHAT THE HELL WAS SO IMPORTANT??" I shrieked, referring to the object he retrieved from his room.

He mumbled something, and I told him the lift the washing machine. Still barking, there was no way to convince Nimbus the danger was gone. I pulled Nimbus out and wrapped him in the only thing I could find: a Santa Claus hat from Christmas. Safe in my arms and nuzzled in the hat, I nearly began to weep at what could have been a very different scenario. If Chris had been a few seconds late or if Nimbus hadn't seen Sansa coming, I'd be cuddling my dead or dying chinchilla. 

After stroking him, giving him a treat to calm and distract him and locking him up in his cage, I turned on Chris. 

"What was so important that it couldn't wait until Nimbus was put up?" I screamed. 

"I had to get my charger."

"Really? And you didn't know that Sansa was right there in front of the door the whole time? I knew that. She's had her paws sticking out from under the door since you put her up!!"

"I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Lex. I didn't mean to." 

"Why didn't you just put up Nimbus if you had to go in there? What if she had gotten a hold of him? It would only take a few seconds!"

There's a moment when someone makes a mistake, a honest and innocent mistake, that could have ended with horrible, irreversible consequences. And because it wasn't you who made the mistake, you take it out on the person who did. No, Chris wasn't being as careful and observant as he should have been, but he's managed to keep Sansa back on other occasions when he's needed to get into his room. On the other hand, I constantly rag on him about going in his room while Nimbus is out playing in case a situation happened like the one we experienced last night. Upset and furious, I really let Chris have it. I refused to let him touch me and remained stressed out the rest of the night. I remember feeling Nimbus's soft fur as I held him close to calm him down. For once, he didn't struggle or try to get out of my hands. He stayed close to my chest and let me console him after the traumatic event. 

It really put things in perspective. I'm very guilty of getting so frustrating with this little animal that I've wondered if I've made a mistake in adopting him. I imagine how much free time I would have not having to clean his cage. I try to remember what life was like before all of my belongings had chew marks on them and what a dropping-free floor looks like. But last night was that wake up moment, the minute you realize just how special your different pets are. May I never have to experience a wake up call like that again because I was taking Nimbus for granted or wanting my chinchilla-free life back. I couldn't be able to handle losing my Nimbus, especially so quickly after he came into my life. It's really making me look harder at the whole Sansa situation, and I believe I have convinced Chris to keep her if (but hopefully when) I move for a job. Otherwise, me alone in a new town with 3 pets will end in a disaster of stress and frustration for everyone. And, it'll be Sansa who will take the blame.

Nimbus and his safe kitty friend Sparta