By Zachary Newcott

Never before had I seen a rodent of such magnificent proportions, well, aside from that time my three roommates refused to clear the sink of dirty dishes for six weeks. Even then, during the great Dirty-Dishes Stand Off of 2009, I had never seen a rodent that could compare to this, a capybara.

Usually these strange, giant, hamster/rat hybrids are found in South America. This day, however, one had appeared in the place I least expected to find it: the Rescued Treasures Thrift Store in Visalia. My wife Beth was the first to spot it out of the corner of her eye. As we passed a pile of decorative plates, she grabbed my arm with a fierce grip.

"Is that… A capybara??" She asked quietly, almost to herself.

Although it was clearly stuffed and standing motionless on a coffee table in the furniture section, we didn't move out of fear it would scurry away, maybe into a huge mouse-hole. With my son Shiloh carefully tucked away in his carrier, the three of us crept closer to investigate.

As other shoppers only gave the animal a raised eye-brow as they passed, I found myself completely lost in the enchanting vacuum of its vacant eyes, totally enraptured by its luscious, scraggly hair, and dumbfounded by its strange buck-teeth that appeared to have been replaced long ago by two large rubber implants.

The price tag read as $129.00, which I read aloud to my wife as "ONLY" $129.00. She too was blown away, but was quick to remind me of what money can also purchase; things like a mortgage, food, or student loan payments.

"Pshaw," I said, "I can live without all those things. Besides, I haven't paid my student loans in months."

"You know I hate it when you say 'pshaw,'" she told me, "and also, what did you say about your student loans?"

Nervous that we were spending too much time talking and not enough time buying a taxidermy capybara, I quickly waved down an employee.

"Do you think there's any chance we could get the price down on this capybara?" I asked him.

"A capy-what-a?"

"This giant rat. The price tag says $129.00."

"We're selling it for that much? Sounds crazy to me, but we can't bring down the price." He said with a shrug. "Company policy."

"Well," Beth said, "If we brought my mom we could get a senior citizen discount."

"Brilliant," I nodded vigorously, "Call her right now."

"I'm not going to do that." She said.

She was right. I was getting ahead of myself. Even with a slight discount, there was no way I could justify buying a huge stuffed rodent. Even if I knew how perfect it would look in front of our fireplace. When I closed my eyes I could see every major holiday for the rest of my life, imagining Christmas morning as I rushed to grab my stocking hanging from the capybara's buck-teeth, only to pause to blush when I realize that the capybara and myself are both standing underneath the mistletoe.

Yeah, it was getting kind of weird.

As we parted ways I leaned in to the capybara's stiff ear and whispered, "You were the best mistake I never made…"

That night my dreams were filled with visions of capybaras dancing through my head. I awoke the next morning determined to make that life-long dream I had since yesterday come true. Immediately I took to the internet and posted a desperate plea to Reddit.

"Can somebody please lend me $100?" I wrote. In return I would send them a photo of the giant rodent dressed any way they pleased.

It was a shot in the dark, but I had to try. If Reddit users could raise over a million dollars to bring back Reading Rainbow, I could get a capybara in my living room.

To my complete shock, not only would the photo I posted be viewed over 200,000 times, but my entire wish granted. A kind soul by the user name "power-cube" sent me the exact funding I requested. His only request was that I dress the capybara in a polka dot bikini, with sunglasses, and a banana for scale.

It was a deal, but first I had to claim it for my own.

"Do you still have the giant rat?!" I yelled at my phone, desperately hoping it was actually Rescued Treasures that I dialed this time.

"Yeah I think so," said the employee.

"Are you sure? It's a giant rat, about the size of a mini-horse."

"Yeah, that's it. We can't hold it for you though."

On the ride to the store I couldn't help but wring my hands, hoping desperately that no one in Visalia was in the market for a capybara that day.

By some miracle, the capybara was still there.

I threw my money at the Rescued Treasures cashier and quickly wobbled out the door with my new prized possession.

Although our Toyota Camry was never meant to carry something that belongs in the Natural History Museum, we managed to fit the capybara inside by allowing it to stick its head out the window.

To celebrate, we took a detour through the A&W drive-thru for a milkshake.

"Alright, I have to know," the manager said, as she threw the cashier window open. "What in the world is that?"

"Why, that?" I said, nodding to the grinning buck-tooth passenger sticking out the back window. "That's just the largest rodent known to man."

It was also a dream come true.

-- Zachary Newcott is a Multimedia Reporter for The Visalia Times Delta/Tulare Advance Register