Ten years ago a friend ordered a birthday cake for me that was topped off
by a 6"-long plastic reclining man.  This mini-man wore nothing but a
painted-on red bikini.  My first ferret, Nancy Reagan (so named because
she had her pointy little nose in everything), stole Bikini-Boy off the
cake at her first opportunity and spent years hauling him from hiding place
to hiding place.  Subsequent ferrets were allowed nowhere near him.  After
Nancy passed to the Bridge, Bikini-Boy was taken over by Blanche du Bois,
my little albino gal, who was even more ferociously protective of him.
Every once in awhile another ferret would discover Bikini-Boy's latest
hidey-hole and attempt to carry him off, only to be tackled by a tiny
hissing white tornado.  I've moved three times since Bikini-Boy entered our
lives, and each time he's been the last object found after the furniture's
been carted away and the first installed in the new place.  Blanche has
become much more docile in her old age, but she still nestles up to
Bikini-Boy behind the entertainment center and the other ferrets no longer
try to steal him from her.  His bikini's mostly worn away from being carted
around by his derriere and his face doesn't look quite so handsome anymore,
but what he's lost in the way of clothing and good looks is more than
compensated by the love and devotion he's inspired in two female ferrets'
hearts.
 
Signe
[Posted in FML issue 3178]