About 6 years ago, i brought home a little fuzz ball.  It was a black eyed
white with a thick black stripe down its back and extending into its tail.
It was a rather old fert in with a bunch of babies.  He had been in kept in
a pig trough for 5 or 6 other groups of babies that had come and gone for
months.  No one wanted him.  So he came home with me.
 
Little is a nick name for little pooper, little stinker, or little john.
He was never really little in comparison to the size of the other ferrets
in the store or that I already had at home.
 
Little vexed me greatly.  I could not litter box train him.  I would work
faithfully in the correct manner: placing him in the box, or scruffing and
yelling no, and then making him go in his time out cage.
 
Little got to the point that he would move his lips as I held him up to my
face to yell at him.  My lips moved--his lips moved.  He is adorable.  He
came with the others when I called, and could sit, roll over, and beg just
like the others could.  Smart, sassy, playfull--but dumb when it came to
the litter box.
 
One day, I took him to the woods with me to feed the deer.  My friend Rick
let Little wander a little too close to a dense thicket, and I asked him to
catch the pooper before he got away..
 
Rick made a grab, and Little wurled around.  He had all his fur fluffed so
that he looked about 3 times his normal size, and let out a noise that
sounded like a mountain lion.  God strike me dead if I am exagerrating.
People from across the field came running.
 
Little barred his teeth and hissed as I crouched towards him.  I knew he
was going to tear me apart--or die in the woods.  I pulled my sleeve down
over my hand and spoke softly, moving slowly towards him.
 
I grabbed him -bracing for the pain of his teeth slashing me.  I found
instead a tiny puffed up animal shaking like a leaf and whimpering.  He
shook for a very long time.  My heart was really hurting me.  I felt
nauseous.  I just started sobbing in release of the strong emotions brought
forth by this horrible experience.
 
It took me all the rest of the day to understand.  Chewy was deaf.  He
never heard Rick coming for him in the strange forest on his first trip
in the woods.  He reacted out of terror.
 
No wonder I could not litter box train him outside of the cage.  He never
heard me yell.  It took me 3 years to discover my baby was deaf.
 
Meet Little-the deaf black eyed white ferret
Meet Lisette-the brown eyed dumbo.
Together, we are deaf and dumb.
[Posted in FML issue 2999]