Hugo Schwyzer

So my wife took Rocky Shimon, our newest baby chinnie, to the vet’s today. To our moderate surprise, it turns out that Rocky is a girl, not a boy. (Trust me, sexing a chinchilla is notoriously difficult. To be really graphic, girl chinnies have big labia, boy chinnies have very small penises, and when they’re wriggling around and not sedated, holding them still to tell the difference is miserable for them and for you.)

The a/c in my wife’s Solara is out; we forgot to switch cars this morning so that Rocky could ride in airconditioned comfort. As a result, my wife drove home in the midday sun briskly, and rolled through a stopsign. Two cops pulled her over. She begged to be allowed to drive Rocky home quickly, and asked the police officers to follow her back to our house. Once Rocky was safely back in the cool, she promised would “take the ticket.” The cops looked at Rocky in her cage and fell — not surprisingly — in love. They offered to put the cage in their air-conditioned squad car, and my wife readily agreed.

By the time the small caravan arrived home, two of our local finest were head-over-heels. They came into the house and met all of Rocky’s siblings. They talked at length to my wife about our chinchilla charity; they each gave her $20 towards the work of the Matilde Mission.

And they warned her about rolling through stop signs, and didn’t write a ticket. I won’t name the city for which they work or give any more details about them, as I don’t want the very nice pair of officers to get in trouble. But Rocky, Gabby, Chihiro, Dudley, Joonko, Racheli, and Ninotchka join their mama and papa in expressing gratitude.

Oh the enchanting allure of chinchillas, to get donations (and a free ride in air-conditioned coolness) rather than a moving violation!

Please folks, no remarks about women getting out of traffic tickets easier than men. (One of the officers was a woman.) This was about the wonder-working power of chinchillas, not about my wife’s looks.