rubinville

"So what's the deal with those metal wheels that they put in our cages? Am I right? Is this thing on? Please tip your waitress and don't forget there is a two sunflower seed minimum."

Okay, now onto the only gerbil story ever told not involving Richard Gere...

Chippy, who was my first pet, was purchased when I was in first grade, all the way back in 1982. (No, that's not him pictured above, Chippy had major stage-fright.) Chippy was a great gerbil and against my mom's wishes I would often take him out of his cage and let him run around my room. If it was warm enough outside I'd put him in one of those plastic spheres and let him run around on freshly-cut grass. I even took him into class for show-and-tell.

About four years after I got Chippy, my brother got two gerbils which we kept in a cage right next to Chippy's. You can't mix gerbils from other families, so often Chippy and the other two would often just glare at each other from the corner of their cages. Then, without warning, one day one of my brother's gerbils had six babies. We all considered that rather odd since we thought they were both males, which also led my dad to having a very awkward conversation with my brother and I. Anyway, soon there were eight full grown gerbils in one cage, and Chippy in the other.

At that point in his life Chippy was no longer a youngster, and had put on a bit of weight. In contrast, the other gerbils were all young and viril. One day, I came home from school and could hear high-pitched squeeking coming from my room. I went in and glanced in horror at Chippy's cage to see blood all over it. Somehow three of the younger gerbils had made it into Chippy's cage and were basically eating him alive.

I pounced on them to help my old friend. By the time I threw them all into their cage, Chippy was badly beaten. His left eye was bloodied and he had bite marks all over his body. I tried to clean him off with some water, but it hurt him too much to stay still.

Chippy died a few months later which was probably best because he was never the same after that day. We buried him in the backyard on a somber, rainy day. I cried like a six year old that day. Sure, I was ten at the time, but that's just how much Chippy meant to me.

You may be wondering how the gerbils got into Chippy's cage on that fateful day. It turned out that for some reason, the psychotic cleaning-lady that came to our house once a week decided to mix-and-match the gerbils. I don't know why she did it, but that crazy bitch killed my gerbil. We never brought her back to clean, which was fine with my mom. I know that because whenever she would tell this story to her friends she would end it by saying, "She never cleaned the toilets, anyway."

So, now you know the story of how Chippy died, and an how a poor immigrant woman lost her job. Chippy, tonight I am going to make my sheets and blankets into a big nest, just like you used sleep in. I know that's not different than I would normally do, but tonight it's for you, pal. You are missed.