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Hi.  I've been here since January, but I've been very quiet.  You've all
kept me either very amused, in tears, or on the verge of storming the
ramparts in California (since I'm in Georgia, I've somehow resisted
temptation--thus far), but if Pete Wilson REALLY wants to be President of
the U.S. someday . . . he'd better clean up his 'ferret act".  It's rare
that I've felt that any issue of the Ferret Digest was boring, and I want
to thank all of you for taking the time to sit down and write all the
interesting, informative, and entertaining things that you do.  My 2 ferrets
thank you too.  Until I joined the FML, my Mugsy was living in pine litter
and eating grocery store cat food, her vet had told me that ferret food was
overpriced and that "too many ferrets had done just fine for years and years
eating plain old cat food".  This vet now is the proud(?) possessor of a
neatly indexed and annotated binder containing information on Dr. Williams
(including curriculum vitae, pulled from the net), the Ferret FAQ, the
Disease FAQ, and an issue of the Ferret Digest . . . I can only hope that
he has sense enough to read it.  By the end of February when Tuggle moved
in, I was much wiser, thanks to all of you.
 
My ferts are pretty much like your ferts, they do the same amazing and
wonderful and awful things, in short, they're endlessly fascinating little
varmints.  They've never called 911, but if Tuggle is close to a phone when
it rings, he considers it his duty to make that infernal rackety noise
machine shut up.  He knocks the receiver off the hook and afterwards can be
found with his ear against the receiver, eavesdropping on someone else's
conversation.  His proudest possession is his squeeky lady bug.  On those
occasions that he decides to move it from one hidey-hole to another, he can
be spotted exceeding the speed limit, hissing all the way, lady bug hanging
from his tightly clamped jaws.  He has terrorized the cat shamefully.  In
fact the cat has requested that I refrain from mentioning her name in any
type of communication that has to do with ferrets.
 
But Mugsy, my sweet, tiny, exquisite, brilliant Mugsy, is always a delight.
Well, ok, so maybe she stands in her litter box and hangs her behind over
the side, completely missing anything resembling litter.  When your're that
long, it's hard to realize that your behind is so far back.  And maybe
sometimes she gets tired of Tuggle's ever-present proclivity for wrestling,
and just HAS to beat the tar out of him, even though he's a lot bigger than
she is.  A girl has a right to have an occasional mood swing, doesn't she?
A few weeks ago, I noticed Mugsy lying in the floor.  Mugsy NEVER lies down
in open view.  Lying down is done behind the couch or under a chair.  I
grabbed her up, and yep, she felt limp.  A few minutes later we arrived at
the vet's.  Turned out she had a swollen lymph gland.  She was prescribed
amoxicillin and we were told to come back in a few days for a recheck.
Thursday night we had a 2nd recheck appointment, and arrived to find a full
waiting room.  We had brought Tuggle along because he loves any kind of
outing and both he and Mugsy were housed in their soft carrier with net
siding (which I read about in the FML, and ran out to K-Mart to buy).  I
heard a young lady(?) in the back of the room say , "ugh!  Ferrets!  I HATE
ferrets!" Once we were finished at the desk, I made a point of going to sit
next to the young lady, and unzipping the top of the carrier.  Out popped a
fuzzy head.  "Hi, Tuggle", I said.  Then as the other head was emerging, the
ferret foe asked me how I could tell them apart.  "Because they don't look
alike," I responded.  By then Mugsy's cute little face with her dark mask
had emerged, and I started explaining that she was a sable with Siamese
pattern (thanks, Bill Killian), and that Tuggle is a silver mitt (see his
big white toes), with panda markings (well, they probably are panda markings
. . . I think --although sometimes my son and I speculate on the possibility
that one of Tuggle's parents was a malamute and the other was a wharf rat,
which would explain a lot of things in both his appearance and behavior).
The young lady (who is a cat owner) acted very interested and seemed to be
softening a little toward ferretdom, when we were called into an examining
room.  I had the Mugwump in my arms and as we passed between the young lady
and the high-top counter where the beautiful and dignified clinic-resident
kitty cat was perched, I reached out to pet said kitty.  Faster than I could
react, my prim and proper little Mugsy reached out too, and nipped that poor
cat's nose.  I couldn't bring myself to look back at the ferret-hater, but I
feel fairly confident that Mugsy managed to undo all the p.r. work I had
begun.  Sure enough, the vet said that Mugs appears to be in tip-top form
once again, but I guess that a certain cat and I already suspected that.
 
Diane,
Mugsy,   "What do you MEAN I don't get no more amoxi?  That was my bestest
treat!"
Tuggle, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty."
Anonymous feline, "I begged you with tears in my eyes, not to bring another
one of those things into this house, but do Cali's feelings count for
anything around here?  NNNNNOOOOOOOOO!"
 
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[Posted in FML issue 1580]