Dear Ferret Folks-

Ah, poofing. I remember poofing.

I once had a fat little girl named Sabrina the Bat Biter. She had a
lush dark coat and a sort of smoldering expression like a teenaged
Elizabeth Taylor. She liked things her way. She liked things her way
more than any other ferret that I have ever met.

One of the things that she did *not* like was to have a hoomin reach
its smelly pale paws into her cage. *Her* cage. It was hers. All hers.
This became a problem when she had filled her litter box and I wished
to empty it. The litter box was in her cage, thus it, too, was also
*hers.* Not to be messed with. She had it just the way she wanted it.
It was an expression of her artistic soul and not to be touched. My
artistic sensibilities being less well refined than hers I...touched
it.

At first I would reach those clumsy pale paws into the cage and she
would snap at them. I would flail them around, trying not to get bitten
and making all kinds of unwlecome noise in the process. She would dodge
about and pursue, with prejudice. Extreme prejudice. Finally I would
just lunge for the pan and set about emptying it.

Sabrina would wait until I was aaaalmost done, caught awkwardly on my
knees in the nexus of pan, paper towel, and spray bottle. And then she
would smile. Yes, smile. There was something of a wink in that smile, a
little chuckling wink that brings to mind one of Sarah Palin's "We're
all friends here!" winks. Only this one was completely malevolent. We
were definitely *not* friends, here. Then she would assume her favored
position, tail held high and well out of the way and with a single
convulsive pulse of her not inconsiderable belly...POOF!

Almost never failed. There would be about 30 seconds of a pungent
smell. It had tones of cat pee and lemon furniture polish. Then Sabrina
would, with an elegant diva-like swish of tail, leap up into a hammie
and disappear.

To this day I still flinch when I think of that wink.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 7005]