A week ago Thursday I got home from playing bridge about 11:00 p.m..  As I
started down our walkway, I knew something was wrong because the door to our
front porch was propped wide open.  My husband was sitting in the living
room in the dark - waiting to tell me that two of our three ferrets had
gotten outside.  He had been looking for them all evening without success.
I grabbed the flashlight, the squeaky hot dog and the great 120# canine
hunter (ha)!  Duke and I walked around our neighborhood until 2:00 a.m.
squeaking the hot dog and calling for the ferrets.  I slept downstairs in
the hope I would hear them during the night (I went outside about every 15
minutes and squeaked the toy and called them).  The outside basement door
was also left open with food and blankets for them.  At 3:00 a.m. I heard
much racket coming from the ferret cage.  I thought it sounded too noisy for
my small female, Noodles.  I checked it out and was ecstatic to find Shadow,
our albino, stretching and yawning.  So realized that, at least, only one
ferret was outside.  (First I have ever known Shadow to go to his cage to
nap - they usually have free run of the house) The missing one was my 6
month old crazy demented racoon, Buster.  The other two are a couple years
old and might at least have some homing instinct.  Whenever I tried taking
the demented racoon outside, he would jump and dance and act so crazy that I
didn't often take him out for fear of loosing him.  I woke up about 6 am
after finally being able to fall asleep.  Duke, and the squeaky hot dog and
I went out on the hunt again, and I told neighbors about my missing Buster
Ferret.  (What's a ferret???) I had so many fears - (we live on a lake)
drowning, hawks, cars, dogs, family of woodchucks living on the bank, shoot
first-think later redneck types in the neighborhood.  I went to work, called
the humane society, put an ad in the paper, made up signs, encased them in
plastic as it was raining and came home at lunch - walked some more with
Duke, hot dog and stapled about 20 signs to telephone poles all over the
area.  When I didn't find him during lunch hour I thought he was a goner -
such a crazy baby.  I returned home about 5 o'clock - got the dog, and the
hot dog and walked the neighborhood again.  (By the way, the dog loved all
these extra walks!) There are so many woodpiles, piled up piers, flower
gardens, vegetable gardens - no luck.  The squirrels were getting really
P.O.'d because of that squeaky hot dog.  I came back to my yard and hung
around about an hour pulling weeds, squeezing the toy, etc feeling really
depressed and hopeless about the situation.  It was getting dark so I went
into the house.  My husband and I were saying that unless somebody had
Buster in their house, it looked bleak as he had been gone over 24 hours.  I
just happened to look out of the corner of my eye and THERE HE WAS - THE
LITTLE FERT - outside, right in front of the door.  He started to take off -
no interest in being rescued.  We were kissing him and rubbing our faces on
his big fat chocolate smelling baby body, and then put him down.  He went
right down the basement steps to escape the way he had the night before - no
remorse - no guilt.  I think he had been right outside our door - hiding and
laughing at us - the whole time.  We are extremely fortunate to get him
back, but now he camps right by the door - planning his next excellent
adventure - which won't happen!!!
[Posted in FML issue 1711]