Hugo Schwyzer

It’s been a long time since I’ve mentioned our chinchilla rescue work. As my regular readers know, in 2005, my wife and I started The Matilde Mission: Pet Homes for Ranch Chinchillas. Our partners, Adam and Sally Blacke of Michigan, handle the website and much of the actual rescue work; we handle much of the fundraising. The organization, a 501(c)3 tax-exempt charity, was named for our first chinchilla, Matilde, who died in 2006.

Earlier this month, Texas authorities made the largest seizure of exotic animals in American history. Some 30,000 underfed and mistreated creatures — including snakes and lizards and large mammals — were rescued from Global Exports, an Arlington-based outfit. Among the animals removed were several hundred chinchillas. The Matilde Mission has been asked to provide financial assistance for the medical treatment, long-term housing, and eventual re-homing of 70 of the chinchillas — many of whom are on their way now to a partner rescue of ours in New Orleans. (Nice to think of refugees from Texas headed to Louisiana, for a change.) This is the biggest “ask” we’ve ever received in the history of the Mission, and we need your help.

Our donation page is here, and you can contribute (securely) as little as $5 with your Mastercard or Visa. Remember, donations made on or before December 31 are tax-deductible for 2009 taxes.

Many thanks.

Things have been, well, a bit tense on the home front lately. As our younger chinchillas grow into adulthood (and go through the various cycles associated therewith), spats and quarrels between cage mates — and between cages — become more frequent. Our senior male, Dudley, was bitten by Chihiro, our largest female, when he put his nose too close to her cage. Dudley meeped in displeasure and didn’t emerge from his quarters for forty-eight hours; his “spouse”, Joonko, was nearly frantic.

We’ve made some external changes that will keep “out time” safer. But we’ve also decided to address some of these squabbles homeopathically. All seven of our chinchillas have “issues”, as it were, just like their human guardians. And though I don’t rely on natural remedies to the exclusion of Western medicine, we do consult a homeopath regularly. And we’re going to start giving the chinchillas some flower essences, gently rubbed onto their tiny paws or lightly placed on a treat. Different chins will receive different remedies; Chihiro may benefit from “beech” to help her become more tolerant, while Dudley may need a bit of Gentian to restore his optimism as he continues to cope with the aftermath of his bite.

Tease and eye-roll to your heart’s content. We’re going to have the most well-adjusted chinchillas in town. Look, in a future post, for updates about our introduction of massage therapy to their weekly regimen.

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.

First off, we’re keeping our newest rescue chinchilla. He came with the very generic name of “Chili” (which is almost as bad as “Fluffy”), and last night, we formally bestowed upon him his new monicker: Rocky Shimon. Rocky joins his brother Dudley Mr. Doodles and his sisters, Gabriella Princessa; Ninotchka Miss Mouse; Chihiro Pango Massionfruit; Joonko Evangelista Crawford Turlington and Racheli Scrappy Doo.

Plans are afoot for their own website, complete with webcam (and possibly live chat.)

Updated pictures of all of our babies to come this weekend.

I lied, one more post before we go.

The Matilde Mission, our chinchilla charity, is undertaking a number of major projects. Through painstaking negotiation, we’re very close to “shutting down” one of the biggest chinchilla pelters in the upper Midwest, and were — just in the last few days — able to bring a significant sized herd off the ranch and into a safe house. Read the latest update here. Here are two babies, for example, enjoying soft bedding and hiding enclosures for the first time. Instead of ending up in a fur salon (it takes 100 chins to make a full-length coat), these little guys will watch cartoons (a chinchilla’s favorite pastime) and eat hay and play for the rest of their days.

Here’s “Nubs”, who survived having his ears chewed off when he was a kit. And here’s ‘96, just before she died; some chins come off the pelting ranches so traumatized that they aren’t long for the world. But when the Matilde Mission rescues, we make sure that the chins that can’t be saved die either at home in their adoptive parents’ arms or in an animal hospital, gently euthanized while loving fingers stroke their fur. On the ranches, they die alone and frightened — if not by having their necks broken (standard procedure for making a pelt), then of neglect.

I’ve cried a lot this week. My wife and I serve as president and treasurer of the Mission, and we are coordinating with rescuers in Arkansas and Michigan at the moment. We’ve saved dozens of lives this week; dozens of little happy, intelligent, kind, soft creatures will know joy and comfort they’ve never known before. But we’ve lost a few and had to put a few down, and though I’d love to authorize unlimited vet procedures to save the sick ones, vet money comes from the same fund that pays for acquiring, transporting, and rehoming the ones who can have long and happy lives. There’s been a lot of hard decision-making these past few days.

We’re going to ramp up for a major fundraising campaign this summer as we seek to take the Mission nationwide. In the meantime, I know money’s tight for most of my readers. But any donation, no matter how small, will do so much good. These girls are playing today instead of being turned into coats or dying of neglect, and you, our donors are the reason.

You can donate securely via credit card here. The Matilde Mission is an IRS-recognized, 501(c)3 tax-exempt charity. Checks and chinnie fan mail can be sent to:

“The Matilde Mission: Pet Homes for Ranch Chinchillas, Inc.”
PO Box 94521
Pasadena, CA 91109

The late Matilde Schwyzer thanks you.