Chris Garcia came to Austin from the San Francisco Bay Area in 1998, the year of his first heat stroke. As the American-Statesman's movie critic, he is both loathed and dimly tolerated. Sandra Bullock, among others, will never speak to him again. He reads more than he eats, drinks more than he sleeps and breaks too many sticks when he drums.
Frequently using his tattered passport, he hasn't time for a dog but just enough for a rat named Tammy. He bit into the head of a chicken in China and plans to drink snake blood in Vietnam. He is a fervid animal lover.
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2008 > December > 09 > Entry
By Chris Garcia
| Tuesday, December 9, 2008, 04:16 PM
Sure, yes, ha ha, having a grossly obese pet rat is fun for everyone, day and night. Waddle-waddle, galumph-galumph, plop — the rare delights of watching my Falstaffian rodent ambulate across the living room floor. Oh, look, tee-hee, she’s eating.
Again.
Tammy, the Super Fatty Ratty — it has come to this. I didn’t notice it that much, until I noticed it a whole bunch. Hello, dolly, as in the thing with wheels that carries hefty objects.
The ballooning evolution of Tammy, glutton demon-creature, cuddly stuffed woolly mammoth:
Baby Tammy, summer 2007
Teenage Tammy, few months later
Adult Tammy, two days ago
(Why, she asks, are you doing this to me?)
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By Veronica
January 25, 2009 5:16 PM | Link to this
I swear that’s my kid’s hamster. Does she poo on your hand, too?