Dear Ferret Folks-

I don't think it is any secret by now that I dote on my five year old
nephew, Alexander, even though he is an occasional barbarian. I was at
that age. My parents called me "Ghengis" after the great Kahn. I used
to run around at Alexander's age in underpants and a plastic Viking
helmet with horns. Sometimes I wore a towel as a cape, sometimes I went
without. It was the horned helmet that was really the lynchpin of the
whole look. I had it for years. If I had one that fit now, I'd probably
pull it out for special occasions.

For all that he is capable of nightmarish Kindergartenism, Alexander is
also capable of great sweetness, and honesty. I think it is all part of
being five. I suspect it won't last, so I am cherishing it now.

He so enjoys spending time with ferrets. I washed them the other day.
Not because they were particularly soiled, but because it had been many
months since I had last done so, and their coats were lying very flat
against the skin with embedded weasel grease. Fur is at its warmest
when it is clean and fluffy, not thin and worn close to the body. I
hate putting them through the winter wash, but they come out like
fluffy kitties, and I suspect that they are warmer for it. Fluffy is
just plain more insulating, it holds body heat better. At least that
is my opinion. Todd and Hebert certainly behaved as though they had
another while being shampooed. I only put them through it once a
winter, when the temperature really drops.

Well, Todd and Hebert did their frenetic "Oh god, we're wet!" dance on
the three towels my husband put down on the bathroom floor for them to
dry themselves on. At first, they absolutely looked like hell. Drowned
rats. Then slowly, they became spiky-coated weasels, then damp ferrets,
then winter minks with those astonishingly lovely pelts. They looked
like new animals after the bath. They came out looking solid,
substantial, and lushly furred. It was hard to believe the before VS.
after transformation. It's a wonder to me every time.

Alexander saw them the day after their bath and he drew in his breath
and whispered "Oh, Aunt. The ferrets are so beautiful!" Yes, yes they
were. Albino Hebert had become a little domesticated polar bear. He was
truly white, and no longer yellowish. He was fuzzed so thickly around
that he looked like an absolutely adorable stuffed animal, only without
that terrible stillnes that stuffies have. He lives, breathes, sniffs.
He is never still.

Todd had seemingly doubled in size and girth (if such a thing is
possible!) He is adorable, adorable with that set of four white toe
tips and his white knees. Those highlights make his dark parts look
especially minky. Both boys have those sweet blunt little ears, the
long mouths that reveal impressive fangage with every sleepy yawn.
They are low to the ground and seemingly flow from place to place as
if they were the perfect fusion of mink and mercury.

They are just *beautiful* they really are, and sometimes I forget
that. I forget to appreciate how cleverly they are designed for life
in a harsh and unforgiving world. The Swiss Army-like paws with the
specialized toes and claws, intricate little tools designed for
survival. The long, sinuous backs that give them incredible
flexibility, shocking speed. The small squared wet nose that knows
things I will never understand, never imagine. Stories sensed, but
never given voice to. What must it feel like to run flat out with the
little legs rippling underneath, the press of wind against whisker?

I will never know. But I am grateful that Alexander reminded me of what
familiarity sometimes blinds me to. A simple observation. "Oh, Aunt.
The ferrets are so beautiful!"

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6220]