Dear Ferret Folks-
 
Poor Ping is He has had to make mighty adjustments in his life, now that
he shares it with that wild child, Puma.  That *girl*.  The one who jumps
on his back, throws her arms around his neck, and drums her back feet
into his side like little stirrups.  Giddy-up, Ping, WHEE!!  Carry me!!!
 
The first few days she was here, he just hid out in the living room sofa
as much as possible.  We couldn't catch him.  At night he snuck food
from the dog's bowl, and was discovered up on the toilet seat, head down,
drinking.  There is nothing dignified about drinking from the toilet,
because you are getting your ass kicked by a *kit*.
 
I felt sorry for him.
 
I decided he needed some male bonding time, with my husband, Dann.  Dann
had to go to that place that Wolfy and I call Man Land, the Home Depot
store.  One of the few retail outlets where not only is it possible for a
man to show up wearing Bermuda shorts, a hooded sweatshirt with the arms
ripped off, a baseball cap, and flip flops in New England in November, no
one even bats an eye.  (What's the big deal?  They were clean, say's Mr.
Man.) Half of the shoppers there look as if they, too, drank from the
toilet at some point in their lives to escape from a difficult woman.
 
So I slipped a vigorously protesting Ping into his H-harness and leash.
My little sister, Dann, Ping, and I loaded ourselves into Dann's very
male pick-up truck, and stopped first at Borders Bookstore, where my
sister and I got out.  Dann and Ping drove off together to the nearby
Man Land, to pick up....I dunno....man stuff.
 
My sister and I selected some books, paid for them, then sat down in the
little cafe with some art coffee, to chat and wait for the guys.  We
talked about men, and laughed.  Then, I started laughing really hard.
My sister asked what was wrong.  I could barely speak.  I finally choked
out that I had had this vision in my mind's eye, that while we were
sipping expensive coffee in completely civilized comfort, somewhere down
the road, my husband was bent over at the waist, running as fast as he
could, chasing a nylon leash dragging along the floor and disappearing
into an acre of stacked lumber and two-by- fours yelling "Ping, you
little *&^%$#, get back here!" We both lost it then, totally lost it
laughing, students with laptops and expensive coffee turned to look at
us, elderly folk giving foreign language newspapers a slow perusal looked
over at us with disapproving scowls.  We just howled, like monkeys.
 
Finally, my husband showed up.  Little sister and I grabbed our books
and followed him out into the parking lot.  We loaded up into the truck.
Ping climbed into my arms, and lay there.  He was very tired.  I looked
at my little sister, she looked at me.  We both stifled giggles.  I asked
cautiously how it went.  Dann said oh fine, fine.  I described my vision
of Ping disappearing into the bowels of Home Depot with Dann running
after him, cursing.  My husband just laughed and said no, it almost came
to that once, but Ping had been really good.
 
Dann had parked at Man Land, and taken a few rags from his truck with him
to line the shopping basket, so Ping had a good place in the basket to
lie down or stand, a place that wasn't made up of orange plastic mesh.
Ping spent almost the whole trip standing on his back feet, with his
little paws over the rim of the basket, so he could see everything, and
everyone.
 
And oh, what a vision it must have been for Ping....bins and bins and
bins of shiny nuts, wing nuts, bolts, both grades five and eight, bright
rivets, tiny screws, huge screws, the overhead flourescents shining on
boxes of nails, of brads, there were literally ONE MILLION tiny shiny
things to see, to think about stashing....
 
There were literally ONE MILLION board feet of fragrant lumber, the fresh
cut pine smells, the nuttier aroma of oak, the citrusy tang of redwood,
the mellow smell of birch, the rotting, woodsy aroma of fresh mulch in
six different formulations....just imagine the digging possibilities....
and for all of his two and a half years, he had NO IDEA that such wonders
existed, all under ONE, ENORMOUS ORANGE ROOF!!
 
The Plant Department....ONE HUNDRED potted fig trees to dig in!  The
Patio Furniture Corner...upholstered swings and chaises and chairs, all
of which could be climbed, scrambled over, the stuffing ripped from the
fabric!  The Lighting Department....ONE HUNDRED LAMPS to be toppled over
and smashed to bits!  WASTEBASKETS!  Plastic ones, metal ones, with and
without lids, any one of which might contain treasure!  Curtains and
swags and screens to scale!  A THOUSAND DOORS to lie in front of, and
dig beneath!
 
Ping drank all of it in, his eyes huge, his ears hitched back in wonder.
 
Yes, it's no surprise that an utterly spent Ping fell soundly asleep
in my arms as we drove home, his big paws, twitching, imagining,
dreaming.... shiny metal tubing, aluminum dryer vent hose by the yard,
PVC tubes as big around as a coffee can...it would take a month to run
through it all...running in his sleep...
 
Alexandra in MA.
[Posted in FML issue 4870]