Chinchilla (8/1)

On Tuesday, I got a text from my mom asking me to call her when I had the chance, so I did. Late Monday night, one of my dogs passed away. We all took it pretty hard, and I'm still pretty broken up. I know that for some people, it may not seem... important, but Ezio was a part of our family. He had quirks and a bright, happy personality. So it's hard not to be home with the rest of my family, we're all heartbroken.

Tuesday evening was rough- I called home, stayed up late flipping through pictures of my littledog and crying it out. On Wednesday, I was still on the verge of tears. Ocie had asked me if I was okay (I had called home from the office, and as a result, cried in the office) and when Fred asked me how I was doing I almost started crying again. So, not being 100%, I decided to not go into the field. I wanted to, I had planned on it. But when the intern that was to tag along started talking about how fancy his borrowed backpack was, I almost lost it- All I could think was You're talking about that sweatstained, grey backpack but my dog is dead. Everything seemed unimportant, so I stayed tucked away, out of sight, buried in my spreadsheets so that no one would talk to me.

But by midday I was itching to get outside. I felt trapped in the office, and my swollen eyes were grainy from crying and staring at the screen, so I wandered around, hoping someone needed help with something. The law enforcement officer and the forester were headed out to the Nansemond River NWR, and I decided to tag along.

Before we could leave Great Dismal, Officer Ross stopped by a couple of the refuge entrances to do his checks. We stopped halfway down the road entrance to Jericho Ditch, as an old four door came rolling by. With his superior observation skills, the officer asked if we saw the cage in the back of the car. He hunched down, talking about how the driver hadn't returned his friendly wave.

We turned to follow them as they headed towards the small parking lot and brochure racks. When we reached the lot, they had turned around and had started to tear out of the refuge. In the bushes, we saw a small grey shape scurrying around.

At first I thought it was a rabbit, with it's nubby noise and smooth fur, but I was wrong.

The nervous animal was in fact, a chinchilla.

For a moment we sat there, staring at this mysterious little creature (I wondered if I could keep it), then the officer punched the gas and tore after them, hitting 60 on the road that was a 15 mph limit to catch up with the driver.

After pulling the driver over, ticketing him for an "introduction of animal to a National Wildlife Refuge," and heading out, the jokes starting rolling. The boy driving was a year younger than I am, and he said he was getting rid of it because "The doctor said it couldn't be around my babymama while she's pregnant."

The three of us were really, really tempted to rescue the animal from being dumped somewhere else so that we could leave it as a gift to our biologist, and I regret not doing it. I can only imagine how his yells would bounce around in that cozy little office when he strolled in to see a Chinchilla at his computer.

We decided that maybe printing out a picture of the animal and labeling it as a new species known as the "squabbit" (combining squirrel and rabbit) and presenting it to the office. Snickering, our tale got larger on our way back to the headquarters, Bryan Poovey boasted that he had "Captured a suspicious person with 12 ounces of pure chinchilla," the other named the offender the "Chinchilla culprit."  Later, Officer Ross recorded the chinchilla in the "animal sightings" log on the front desk.

By the time we got back to the office my face hurt from laughing so much, and I could hardly tell the story without cracking up. It was completely unexpected and bizarre, and exactly what I needed after losing someone so dear.