No, fellow FMLers, I cannot speak to ferrets. Were that I could. And
that is the point. There is a barrier surrounding me that I cannot get
around. I can talk to you people all day. I can discuss philosophy, and
express my feelings with the best of you. We have developed a language
that represents to the minutest point what we mean to get across to one
another. But that is where we reach the barrier. There is a whole world
of thinking, breathing life with which - try as we might - we cannot
communicate. In all our brilliance, we are rendered deaf and silenced.

There are those who say they can communicate with animals. I don't
know. I have stared into a ferret's eyes, hoping to catch something,
but either I have no talent for this or no one does. It is so
frustrating to know that there are thoughts and points of view alien
to our own that literally stand right next to us; right next to us,
and yet they may as well be a million miles away.

So I do the next best thing. Since I have the gift of speech, I talk
to my ferrets. Mostly, I tend to talk to them as if they were little
children. Animals are "cute" and "cute" = "child" and "child" = well,
"ignorant." So we talk to our companions as if they were idiots. It
may well be a good thing that they cannot understand us, or they might
be offended by all the moronic talk. I wonder about it sometimes, and
there's the rub. I won't ever know. I am on this side of the barrier
and they are on theirs. So, because I hear no complaints, I imagine
there are none and I talk to them however I want. Imagination is my
only outlet...

I have almost stepped on a ferret (I shall cite myself, officer). All
of us who keep ferrets have done that at least once. Ferrets have never
attended elementary school and learned to walk on the ride side of 
the hall. They walk where they please and fear nothing. But maybe I'm
wrong. I *imagine* they fear nothing, but what if it is something way
more complex? Raised by humans, kept by humans, ferrets have been
conditioned to trust humans. Ferrets learn that humans will walk around
them, and eventually they lose any thought of evading feet, simply
because feet magically evade them. It's a logical conclusion. But see,
that's the thing. I can "conclude" till smoke comes out of my ears,
but I can't know. It is a complex problem for an animal behavioralist,
but it would be a simple one if one could just talk to the party in
question...

"Why do you never watch for our feet?" But there is no reply. We have
to give our best guess. We "believe" what we want to believe, but most
beliefs are really just guesses all dressed-up. Most of us would defend
our beliefs with passion, but in essence we are just hoping, no matter
how strongly or weakly, that our guess is the correct one. So some
people explain some ferret behavior this way, and others that way,
and some appear to know more, or some have better credentials. But it
changes little. They might be good guesses, and the guesses may even be
right, and that's the maddening part. We observe something. It appears
to be correct, and yet we can never verify anything. It's always two
inches out of our grasp, no matter what we do. So, are we right? Did
our brilliance stumble onto the answer? Are we ever "right?" And if
we can't be "right," do we say there is no answer, even if we spend
an eternity witnessing the same things over and over? Maddening...

It comes down to accepting our own limitations. But I am not so quick
to accept mine. Not that I can somehow learn to talk to my ferrets. No,
I do not expect to do that in my lifetime. Any crackpot who predicts
that humans and ferrets will be having conversations in the next 50
years would be laughed out of whatever circle they belonged. And
rightly so. What I do not accept is not when it might happen, but that
it is not possible at all. I can speak. I can hear. "And if I can,
then the Boss in all his glory must certainly have given this gift to
my closest companions." But I stop myself there. I have left cold hard
facts to my own imagination. I have no proof to back up anything I
have come up with. I'm back at square one...

So I ignore all the mental table tennis. Each rationale, each thought
is an annoying ping in my ear. I have better things to do. So I talk
to Jackson. Or I imagine I do...

There is not one of us who have seen one of our companions in pain and
not wished that they could tell us what was wrong. Where does it hurt?
What can I do? My wife and I witnessed an older ferret yelp in pain
until it died. He was an older guy who belonged to someone else, and
we were watching him. We knew he was sick and had various medical
conditions, but nothing readied us for what was to happen. I held him
and tried to comfort him with tears in my eyes, but it was as if I
wasn't even there. He shrieked and stared forward at nothing, until his
shrieking eventually faded into silence. That blank stare has haunted
me. I am not sure if he could have told me where it was hurting that I
could have helped him, or at the very least, comforted him. If I knew
anything, I could have tried. How can I try anything if I don't even
know where to start?

If I was dying, and had any luck at all, I could tell my wife moments
before my death that I loved her and she would hear me and remember
those words. And it would mean something to her. In this same way, I
wanted to tell this shrieking old man that it was going to be alright,
that his pain would end, and that he would be free (even though I'm
not so sure of those things myself), and he would look at me and I
would know that my words gave him some form of comfort - but I could
do nothing. I could communicate nothing. Sometimes comfort is a lie,
but in my inability to communicate, I could tell no lies. I could tell
no truth. I might has well have been deafened and silenced.

But back to Jackson.

I have told you guys that Jackson has adrenal disease, and that we
opted out of surgery, going with Lupron injections to lessen the
symptoms. Many ferret owners do this. Adrenal disease is so rampant
(Bob C. is absolutely right that husbandry is the problem) that almost
all ferret owners have to deal with it at one point or another. But
again, which treatment do you choose? Some choose using the logic of
history. I have had two ferrets die during surgery, and I am reluctant
to lose a third. But there is no true logic in history. "You roll your
dice and you take your chances." Only that's where my problem starts.

In all reality, those are not my dice to roll. Oh, I am stuck with the
job of being "all powerful" and take responsibility like a good human
being, but it is truly not my decision. I consider what I would want
if the same thing were to happen to me. I would want a choice. I
would want to know the facts, and if dice were to be rolled, I would
want to be the one to roll them. To have any less power than that is a
horrifying thought to consider -- but Jackson has none of this power.
I can put him in a carrier, take him to the vet's, and the vet can
give him gases and chemicals, and surgery will be done. Whatever will
happen will happen. But it will be my will, not Jackson's.

Jackson innocently knows nothing of all the choices and possibilities
for his life, and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe it's not. I'm not so
sure "knowing things" has always helped me, let alone made me happy.
But I want it to be fair. Buddhists believe that all life is worth
the same (from a bug up/down to the Dalai Lama), but no matter how
noble that idea is, it cannot mean that all life is the *same*. Me
and Jackson, we are not the same. Aye, that we were, just for a few
hours. So many things I want to tell him...

Roary
35.246302 ~ -106.717857

[Posted in FML 6104]