Dear Ferret Folks-
 
Tonight I sat down to a nice little pile of pita slices, and a plastic
tub of Baba Ganoush from the fancy deli section of the supermarket.  What
is Baba Ganoush, many of you might reasonably ask.  It does sound kind of
obscure, like maybe an unpleasant disease that Arabian stallions get.
But no, it is dip.  Mushy brownish dip that I enjoy from time to time.
I sat happily dunking my pita slices, and expanding my backside in front
of the TV.  Yum!
 
Well, Ping was on the prowl and stomp, loose in the house.  His food
sensors must have gone off, because he climbed right up into my velvety
green armchair (all right, it was the dog's chair, but I get to use it
from time to time.)  He is not shy, no.  He climbed right into my lap,
where the tub of Baba Ganoush was.  I didn't even bother to cover it up
because, of course, ferrets don't like Baba Ganoush.  Ferrets don't like
eggplant-based dip seasoned with sesame tahini, olive oil, lemon juice,
and exotic spices.  Of course not.
 
Ping brought his little masked face right to the tub, sniffed gently,
and began to lick.  I still didn't pull it away because of course,
ferrets don't like Baba Ganoush.  I even told him so.  I said "Ping,
ferrets don't like Baba Ganoush.  It's made out of eggplants.  Ferrets
don't eat eggplants."
Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick.
I tried explaining it to him again, while my husband began to laugh from
the sofa.  "Ping, ferrets don't like Baba Ganoush."
 
Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick-lick.
 
I sighed deeply as my husband started to turn a funny pink color from a
lack of oxygen due to prolonged laughter.  Ping glanced up at me to make
sure I wasn't going to pull the tub away.  One last time.  "Ping, ferrets
don't like Baba Ganoush.  You have just eaten more eggplant than any
other mustellid in recorded history.  A starving wolverine wouldn't eat
Baba Ganoush."  He lifted his little face from the tub, and licked his
whiskers clean in contentment.  He never listens to me.  Bonehead.
 
That was a few hours ago.  I'm turning in now, and I'm going to jam a
chair under the front door knob, just in case any starving wolverines
*were* listening.  There is still some Baba Ganoush left in the fridge.
Better safe than sorry, and now I *have* seen everything, thank you very
much.
 
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 4996]