How'd it get to be a week since the last entry? Crazy.

First, my friends Katie and Aaron and Johanna came over last weekend. Aaron had never met Scooter before, so that was exciting. For me. I love showing my pet to new people. Scooter was much more active than the last time Katie got to see him, which was good, 'cause I felt kind of guilty that I'd been gushing about the critter and when she finally got a chance to see him, he hid in his house the whole time. I think he's gotten accustomed to the noise of extra people in the house. And moving the cage into the living room probably helped, too, since he has more pseudo-interactions with me. Even if they do largely consist of being startled when I move suddenly while he's napping.

Katie did bring her digital camera, and took a few pictures, so maybe there will be pictures to put up. You should send her lots of email at work and nag her. Her email address is... Okay, just kidding.

I pointed out how Scooter never blinks, and Aaron theorized that he was just turning his head in profile, winking the eye that we couldn't see, and then turning the other way and winking that eye. Which made me laugh. But seriously, Scooter is a robot. That's the only possible explanation.

But wait, there's more! Last night I opened the cage to let Scooter run around. And this time I set up a pillow by the chair. See, I was hoping that he might eventually climb on the pillow, hop onto the chair, and then hop back into his cage when he was done running around. Sounds crazy, I know, but it's so upsetting for him when I have to chase him down and catch him. Plus, I worry that he's dehydrated or has to pee while he's running around, based on the fact that when I put him back in the cage he usually races for either the water bottle or the "bathroom" corner of the cage.

Amazingly, it worked, but not the way I expected. Scooter ran around for a while, then hopped onto the couch (which is not remotely by the cage) and from there to an end table (closer) and then to the chair, and then back into the cage. I was so proud of him! So I gave him a raisin. I think I'll let him out again tomorrow night and see if he remembers how to get back into the cage.

Nothing much to add, but I feel guilty about not updating this for a few days...

Last night I cleaned out the cage and then Scooter and I did our little game where I open the door and he hops out and eats out of my hand while I pet him. Not much of a game, really, maybe it's a ritual? I was exhausted, so when he hopped back into the cage I closed it up and figured I could go to bed. But then he say there looking at me, making one of his noises. I believe it's the "contact/lonely" sound, from my online researches. It's just a quiet little repititious chirp. Could I resist that noise?

No. I opened the cage door again, and Scooter hopped out and stared at me. I stroked his fur and made a fuss over him, and apparently that's what he wanted. He sat up on his hind legs without moving, and just let me pet him for a while. I even got daring and started stroking his sides a little, instead of down the back -- usually he flinches when I do that, I guess because he thinks I'm gonna grab him and pick him up. I also learned a new thing: if I pet his chest he sits up a little higher and sucks his tummy in. I assume that it feels good to him, or he'd move away, but it looks like he's thinking, "Uh oh, she'll notice my squishy belly. Suck it in! Gotta impress the ladies!"

Yes, all I have to talk about is petting my chinchilla. File that under "expressions that sound dirty but really aren't." It's just neat to see how he's getting used to me, since I remember when I couldn't reach in to pet him without him freaking out.

I don't think I can count on Scooter just running to the bathroom anymore. Wow, that sentence is bound to result in a lot of very peculiar hits.

I've been letting Scooter roam free in my apartment. A couple of times this week I opened the cage, set up the little "ramp" to the chair, and just watched to see what would happen while I surfed the net. I do close my bedroom door, and I've finally found a way to block off the kitchen (a couple of picture frames make a nice gate that I can hop over, but he can't). And apparently he's acclimated enough to not need the ramp, because tonight I opened the cage door and after a minute he jumped out onto the floor without waiting.

Tonight he's especially hyper. It might be because it's later; when I let him run around before, it was closer to 9 or 10. Presumably he's especially awake now that it's after midnight. So he's basically running around like a freak, sniffing anything, running at top speed across the room, and hiding behind the furniture if I move in his general direction. I'm a little worried that it's gonna take hours before he's tired enough for me to catch him. Oh well. It's so funny, because I can hear him gallop around -- brump, brump, brump -- and hop into walls -- brump, brump, BUMP. So I know where he is.

One of the times I let him out earlier this week, he hid behind my new chair. Or under it. It's a "chair-bed" which is like a mini sofa-bed, as you might guess. He was running around, then he just vanished for a long time. I started to wonder where he was. Then I heard him make his "distress" call, which always freaks me out because it sounds like something large is eating him. Luckily, I've heard him do it enough times to know that it doesn't mean he's being devoured. So the noise was definitely coming from behind my new chair. I took all the cushions off and very carefully opened the bed up -- or started to. As soon as I started to lift it up I saw Scooter lurking underneath. I tried to reach in for him and he immediately scurried off, thus assuaging my fears that he'd gotten stuck somehow.

Okay, I'm seriously never letting him run around this late at night again. Or maybe I will. I cannot believe how freaked out he's acting. He's jumped onto a chair, onto the stereo speaker, and raced back and forth across the living room countless times. It's cute and all, but I just want him to run down the hall and into/near the bathroom so I can at least contain him.

I really should take advantage of this opportunity to clean his cage out, because that needs to be done. But that's just not a fun project for 2:00 AM. Damn, but he's a cute little critter. I'm sure I will let him run around like this again next weekend, because I've never seen him so energetic before, and it's awfully entertaining. Watching him run across the carpet is much better than watching him run in his little wheel. But it's gonna take me ages to catch him, I can tell. Oh well. Serves me right for sleeping in this morning. The first time I let him out to run around, I was able to lure him back with the magical dust. The second time, I had to corner him and grab him by the tail. I hate doing that -- the tail is actually a pretty secure way to pick chins up, but I'm sure it terrifies them. But I had no choice. I suspect I'll have to do the same thing tonight. Assuming he ever goes somewhere I can corner him. As long as he stays in the living room, there's way too much furniture for him to dodge behind. Well, as I said, I did sleep in today, so I guess I'll cope. I'll let you know how long it took me to catch him in my next entry.

Postscript:

Actually, after adding this entry, I looked up and he was sitting in a chair again. I went and filled a tray with bathing dust, and (cautiously) put it by the chair, and he hopped right in. So catching him wasn't hard at all. After letting him run around for over an hour. I still don't think I'll ever let him go free again on week-nights. But it's good entertainment for the weekend.

Just a quick thing that amused me. Niels (who wrote the story about Moving) and Zachary (Scooter's former owner) came over on Friday. Niels crashed on my new chairbed, since he's homeless for another week or so. The chairbed is next to Scooter's cage. Today Niels sent me an email that said "So, I seemed to notice all through the night that every time I looked up, your chinchilla was looking right at me." Heh. I think it just seemed that way because Scooter spends a lot of time staring into space. Not blinking. Ever. Damn, that's creepy.

I also let him run around a bit while my friends were over. Because he wasn't entertaining us enough, basically. He jumped off the chair and ran straight back to the bathroom again. He stayed there for quite a while, although he'd occasionally poke his head out the door to peer at us. I'm not sure why he loves the bathroom, but I like knowing that if he gets loose, he's probably rushing for the room that's safest for him.

So, last night I gave Scooter the run of my bedroom. Many males have fantasized about such a moment, I'm sure. [insert bitter laughter here] Sorry. Right, so my bedroom is finally all tidy, and I decided it would be a safe place for Scooter to run around. I carried him back there in his little plastic sleep & bath house. Yeah, okay, he was still asleep. But if I waited for him to wake up, it'd be time for me to go to bed.

I put the house on the floor and began tidying up my dresser (I'm all about multi-tasking). Pretty soon he poked his head out, confirmed that there was ground outside, and wandered out. The first 10 minutes or so were wonderful, because he went exploring. He galloped about, finding out where all the walls were, sniffing things. He didn't try to eat the old computer I've got stashed in there (until I finish copying files to the new one), which was my chief concern. And I just watched and tried not to move much. The new environment had him pretty keyed up as is, so I didn't want to panic him.

Best moment: he climbed up on the legs of a big full-length mirror I have. That chin loves to perch, I tell ya.

Soon enough, though, he determined that that the futon frame was just high enough for him to happily slip under, and it was dark and cozy. So that's pretty much where he stayed for the next 40 minutes or so. Once I'd finished my tidying I turned out most of the lights, and he started creeping back out. He did his usual "scary new place" behavior, where he'd slooooooowly creep out from under the bed, slooooooowly edge toward something interesting, and then suddenly race back under the bed if I made too much noise breathing. Cautious is a good way to describe it. Borderline neurotic might be another.

I'm sure I'll have plenty of droppings to vacuum up from under the futon this weekend, but that's not so bad. I gotta say, while he does poop a lot, it's pretty tidy poop. I don't want to go into potentially disgusting detail, but basically, you really can just vacuum it up. In fact, I occasionally wonder if he's just a robot: the pellets he eats look very similar to his shit. But that doesn't explain the hay...

ESCAPE!

So yesterday I fell asleep after getting home. Which meant I was wide awake come bed-time. I read in bed for a while, then wandered out to the living room in search of something to munch. And then I noticed that the cage door was open. Uh oh. I'm still not sure if I left it wide open or if I just didn't close it all the way and Scooter pushed it open.

So now I've gotta hunt for a small rodent in my large apartment. Among the piles of laundry in the living room (I put them away today, okay?) and assorted other kipple. I called him a few times, in hopes he'd at least make a noise or poke his head out of whatever corner he was hiding in, but no luck. Then I realized that my bedroom door was open, so I'd better shut that immediately. If he got in there, he could hide under the bed or the dresser or the nightstand, and that would suck. So I go back, shut the bedroom door, and figure I'll also check the bathroom. And there he was! Hiding behind the toilet!

He looked a bit startled, I must say. I think he must have had at least an hour to run around, and I'm not sure if he went straight back to the bathroom or what. It probably took him quite a while to realize the cage was open and work his way out onto the chair and then the floor. I didn't notice droppings all over the living room, so he must not have bothered with it. And I have let him run around in the bathroom a few times, since there's no dangerous wires to chew, and I can sweep up any mess he makes. So once he found it he was probably thinking, "Oh, I've been here. This isn't as scary."

You aren't supposed to chase them around, so I tried getting the magic dustbath stuff out to lure him, but apparently he was too freaked out by his escape to care about bathing. So eventually I had to just grab him. And then I gave him a bath and a raisin and told him he'd been very good to not chew on nasty wires or hide under furniture.

After all that excitement, I was even more awake, so I stayed up reading till past 4. Scooter was pretty tuckered out from his adventure, though. Although he did spend a while staring at me, like, "Hey, I was good! You didn't need to put me back in the cage! I was good, damn it!"

Ah, remember how once upon a time I thought Scooter wouldn't jump into my lap if I was sitting in the chair? It seems like it was just a week or two ago. Oh, it was. That explains it.

He's becoming tame. How cute is that? (By law, all entries in this diary must contain the word "cute.") So, I've been better about playing with him. I think he's getting to know his name -- if I call, "Scooooter," even from across the room, he pops up out whatever corner he's hiding in at looks at me expectantly. Of course, I keep doing it, to make sure I didn't imagine the whole thing, so now I'm scared I'll un-train him because that sound will no longer be associated with yummy treats. Anyway. Due to some rearranging, the cage door doesn't open onto the chair any more. But I have a spare riser-thingy from the cage that works. So I open the gate onto the table, then set the riser so it leads from the table to the chair. And yes, I'll end the suspense at last: he's hopped into my lap. Repeatedly Do you feel the love? I do.

He doesn't just sit in my lap, of course. He scrambles around trying to eat my clothes. Good thing he's adorable, or I'd be vexed. It's neat to watch him adjust to new situations, though. Basically, it goes: hop out of cage, gradually work way out to chair. Finally slip down into lap. Panic at new situation, race back into cage. Immediately hop back out onto gate. Sit and stare. Work way back out to chair with greater confidence. Hop into lap. Sniff around. Hop back to chair arm. Sniff around. Try and eat chair. Look baffled when owner lightly pushes nose away from yummy upholstery. Take offense and go back to gate. Sit and stare...

And so on. The book I got on chins said they had a strong will, and that's the truth. Or maybe they just prove Skinner's theory that negative reinforcement doesn't work. Hence, "Scooooooter equals yummy treats" works, but "mean shoves away from chair" don't equal anything.

Sometimes Scooter sits up on the top level of the cage, and poses there on his hind legs, with his front paws folded neatly on his chest. He's pretty round to begin with, and when he sits like that, he looks like a fur-covered egg (sorta), and he kinda stares into space with his eyes half-closed, and damned if he doesn't look like a little fuzzy Buddha. It's the best thing I've ever seen.

Katie, who rocks, offered to bring her digital camera up sometime and have a Scooter photo-session, so maybe she will rescue me from my lameness. Oooo, graphics. That'll be neato.

I just realized that I never explained the mysteries of Scooter's origins. Maybe I should save it for a special edition comic, but darn it, you deserve to know. See, this was part of a separate page originally, but then I realized that it was a page no one would look at twice, so I thought I'd just say it here. Only I forgot to actually do that. So, pardon the time-shift, but here's the background:

My friend Zachary came to hang out one evening, and we stopped to get food & drinks. There's a pet store next to the grocery store, and as we walked by Zachary spotted the cagefull o' cuteness, and we went in and admired the chinchillas for a while. The next day he decided he needed one, so he came back over and I helped him convey the critter back to his apartment.

Alas, his chinchilla love was short-lived. A mere fling, as it were. Zachary has an efficiency apartment, and the chinchilla cage is rather large, plus chinchillas are nocturnal. It ain't easy to sleep when there's a rodent running around in a squeaky wheel. Meanwhile, I'd been thinking, "Those chinchillas really were darn cute. And it's a rodent. How much trouble could they be?" I'd been enjoying a pet-free lifestyle for a while, and I thought maybe it was time to have company around the apartment.

Needless to say, a deal was brokered, and I had a new (or, technically, used) chinchilla. Zachary had named him Gunther, even though I'd suggested that Scooter was a much better name.Which, seriously, it is, and that's why his name is Scooter now. Even if Zachary still calls him Gunther sometimes.

Do you know what's cuter than a chinchilla? A baby chinchilla. No, I don't have one, but I finally plunked down $6 for a book on the critters, and it's got pictures. Wow. If you could see me looking at this book, I'd lose all crediblity as a heartless cynic.

The new cage location works well. I've got Scooter eating out of my hand. Literally. We have a nice routine down again, where if I talk to him and open the cage door, he races down and sits on it waiting to see if I'll give him something yummy. I'm really impressed by how fast they learn. He's also learned that if the stupid wheel is squeaking, and I open the door, he should go to one of the top levels, out of the way, so I can spend ten minutes fussing and cursing and fiddling with the wheel until it turns without making a horrible noise. I think it must bug him too, since he's got them big ears and all. And he's inside the damn thing when it makes a horrible noise.

It's so funny how fast food hits him, though. He'll putter around in his cage, and if I give him a few special treats (nuts or raisins or banana chips), within five minutes he's completely hyper and has to run in the wheel, race up and down in the cage, run in the wheel again, hop around, and then drink a lot of water. I don't know if it's the food itself or the excitement of getting a treat, but it sure is entertaining.

Today I moved Scooter's cage. It had been on the dining room floor, and I kept reading that it was nice to have the cage above the floor, so that you aren't looming over them when you stand by the cage. There were other factors, too, but they're dull so I won't get into them. The point is, I moved the cage onto a big end table in the living room. So now I can sit in the chair to watch TV, and also play with Scooter. Which is good, because I'll spend more time bonding, and I won't throw my back out. Hooray!

He was a little worried when I moved the cage, but once he'd gotten a chance to sniff everything, he settled in. I think this'll also be better because the cage is in a corner, so it might feel more secure for him. There was an upsetting moment when his little house fell off the outside of the cage when he got into it -- I think I must have jarred it loose when I moved everything. Poor baby. I made sure he was okay and gave him a raisin, but it was a few hours before he went back into the house. I made extra-sure it was securely attached this time.

Another advantage is that when I open the front door to give him treats, it rests on the arm of my chair. Why is this good? Well, because he could jump down onto the end table, or into my lap, but it's not terribly likely. And if he does, I could still catch him before he jumped down to the floor. Whereas when the cage was on the floor, he escaped a few times by dodging out past me.

On Friday, I did some searching online for chinchilla info, and now I am overwhelmed with guilt. I'm not spending enough time playing with Scooter. Other people let their chins run around free for hours at a time. Other people have amazingly huge and complex cages that they built for their pets. Oh my god, I'm a bad person. Now I must add, "spend more time with Scooter" to my gigantic list of self-improvement resolutions.

But you know, these "other people" probably have homes that can be chinchilla-proofed a little more easily. Or at least a room they can chinchilla proof. My apartment is nice and big, but it has very few doors. So the times I've let Scooter run free (well, intentionally), it's been in the bathroom, because that really is the only place that seems safe. When I've finished de-rubble-izing the bedroom, I think I'll let him run around there. But those are the two rooms with doors, so my options really were limited. The living room would be okay, but I'm scared he'll get into the kitchen and crawl under the fridge and lick up all the bugspray I've used against ant infestations and he'll die and then I'll feel even more guilty.

It's so hard to be a parent. The point is, I need to bond more with my rodent. And here I thought the advantage of a rodent was that they didn't need to bond.

Oh, and I also found a place that sells extremely expensive exercise wheels, which they claim are noiseless. How much is that worth? A lot. I'm thinking about buying one.