I wish I could turn my nose up, forgive the pun, and say, "yeeeeeah,
you ARE a pervert". But, well, I do something worse. I actually do NOT
like the smell of ferrets and work really hard to keep them smelling
nice. Which works out anyway because I have severe allergies to them
now.

Anyway, I've never had a poofer in all my years of ferret keeping.
Enter Hurricane Renee Downs. For Christmas she gifted me a DMK rescue,
Crackers, who still had hers (for a joke I'm sure). Thank you Renee.
Fortunately, after her first year here, Crackers doesn't use hers much.

Now here comes the really, twisted, sick part my story. If someone
tells me Crackers has poofed, or if I think I smell the remnants of a
poof, I pick her her up, and much to the horror of my family, I lift
her tail to take a whiff and go, "YEAAAAAH, you did! You did poof". I
make a face and fuss. Then I wonder why the heck I did that to myself.
It never wears thin with the hubby and boys. Today's WTF moments are
every bit as, well, WTF as the first time to them. I don't know why I
do it. Maybe it's because I can't "believe" the smell. So I keep
checking to see if I imagined it before because it just seems
unfathomable such darling little things could do that.

Wolfy, the butt sniffer
Ps, yes this goes back quite a while actually, when someone would make
a face and tell me one of my babies must have poo'ed their diaper, I'd
pick one of them up as if they were an object, flip them totally upside
down, smell their butts, and go "OH, phews, yeaah, he did poop. He did"
WTF?

[Posted in FML 7409]