I am sitting here drinking my tea.  I've not had a good morning.  I had
to clean my room.  I have dust that has supernatural powers.  Not only
did my dust give me crap, but my ferrets (unused to seeing me move this
much) were following me all over the place, getting in my way.  It was
like the Jet's dance number in West Side Story.  First one would follow
me, in perfect sync with my movements.  Then there were two.  Next thing
you know, I had about 6 of them moving side to side with me, snapping
their fingers.  They were fascinated that I was actually moving about the
house.  I think they were trying to figure out what major emergency got
me out of my computer chair.  Would you heathens get out of my way?  I
could use you for dust mops, you know.
 
I am back in my computer chair, now.  The Jets have settled down,
relieved that I haven't hurt myself.  I think to myself, "Ah, now I can
relax."  It took me about an hour to clean my room, and I have to work
later.  This is my private time.  I open my email program and go through
the usual spam.  No, I don't want a fake Rolex.  No, I don't want to buy
Valium over the internet (I change my mind later, however).  No, I don't
want to read erotic stories about farm animals, for Christ's sake.
Delete delete delete.
 
I always save the FML for last.  I can read it slowly, taking my time
while I savor my tea.  I start reading, and not more than two posts down
I get to K's story about Milo.  As I read about Milo, I realize that I'm
not consciously drinking my tea anymore.  I read about Milo falling off
the balcony the first time.  Ah, he's OK.  Good.  Then I get to the part
where he falls off a second time.  A second time?  For some reason, my
lip starts to hurt.  I realize that I am biting it.  I read that this
time Milo is not so OK.  Broken leg.  Dehydrated.  But still very
trusting.  On reading the "very trusting" part, I clench my jaws and
close my eyes.
 
K is a much better person than I am.  I would not be talking to the
mother at this point about anything.  I would... well, I'd... I'm trying
to think of non-violent ways of dealing with mom and the kids, but it
isn't working.  The only thing I can come up with is measuring the height
of the balcony and figuring out the trajectory of flying children and a
flying mother.  I don't even know who's fault it is.  I know my thoughts
are irrational, and that accidents happen, and that people are not
perfect.  But screw all that.  I am allowing myself to be angry.  I
squirm in my chair, and my scalp itches.  I tap repeatedly on my
trackball.
 
I eventually start to settle down.  I no longer want to toss people off
balconies.  That would be wrong.  I want them deported.  I don't care if
they were born and raised here.  I think of stories I can tell the INS
that would cause this family to be deported back to their faux homeland,
Africa.  I don't have anything against the African people, mind you.  I
was simply thinking of hungry lions and small children.  Africa was the
first deportation destination I considered.  I thought to myself, "Africa
might be the proper environment for this family." Yes, hungry lions,
rogue elephants, alligators... these can be the family's new pets.  It
would even up the odds.  They're not going to play too rough with THAT
kitty.  An alligator might fall down the stairs, but not without a kid
in it's mouth!  Oh, the supreme justice of it all.
 
OK, I know.  I gotta stop.  But that's where the problem starts.  While
all of my "fantasy solutions" to this unthinkable act of irresponsibility
distract me, the fact that stuff like this happens all the time stuns me
back into reality.  I just want to punch something.  I want to yell at
somebody.  It's not that I want to do these particular things.  I just
want to do something, anything, so that I don't feel so helpless.  But I
am helpless.  We're all helpless to so much of what goes on around us.
All we can ever do is the best we can do.  I think of Milo - broken leg,
suffering, but still so trusting.  How did this happen to you, Milo?
Twice, no less.  How do we humans, who are so much wiser than ferrets,
let these kinds of things happen?  I blink my blurring eyes.
 
Maybe there's something I can do.  I emailed K and offered her a bit of
money so that Milo could get his leg fixed.  It's either he gets his leg
fixed, or he loses the use of it.  Nope.  Not happening.  Not because of
this irresponsible family.  I can't afford much.  I have two surgeries
scheduled for my own guys this month.  But I can afford something.  I am
going to send K $25 to help with Milo's medical costs.  It is the very
least that I can do.  Maybe if enough of us could do that, we could give
Milo a happy ending.  It wouldn't need to be much, if enough of us were
able to do this for Milo.
 
Don't get me wrong.  I know that we have ferrets here on the list who
need help as badly as Milo needs it.  Nobody has asked me to do this for
Milo.  I don't know why Milo's story has touched me in the way that it
has.  I want to help him for my own reasons.  Maybe it's because of Navi.
I want for just one tiny bit of a moment not to feel so helpless.  I know
there are tons of other ferrets who need help.  My own need medical care.
And they'll get it - that's my responsibility.  But sometimes you just
have to pick a situation and run with it.  I just keep thinking of Milo
and all he's been through.  And yet he's still so trusting.  I can do
this much.  I just can't picture Milo not having a happy ending.  I just
won't.
 
Roary
Albuquerque, NM
http://ferretphilosophy.blogspot.com
 
ps.  I thought about kidnapping the family and ransoming them for the
money, but who would pay to get them back?  Let's stick with deporting
them...
[Posted in FML issue 4949]