Therapy ferrets
My very first ferret was a therapy ferret, for a little while anyway.  I got
Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy in 1988 when I spent a 'working vacation' (oxymoron, I was
totally exhausted by the end of it) at a wildlife rehab sanctuary in Duchess
County, New York (do any of you NYers remember it?  I forget the name,
unfortunately it has since closed).
 
The center would get ferrets dropped off periodically and they would adopt
them out as quickly as possible.  The staff 'ferret person' convinced me I
needed a ferret, so I took Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy home with me to Massachusetts at
the end of my 2-week stay.  I had never seen a ferret and didn't know
anything about them, but I loved animals, so what the heck.
 
Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy was a smart, gentle, lovable sable.  He had the run of the
house, loved playing with my dog (then a puppy), got along with the cats,
and slept on my pillow at night.  (Someone once posted on the fml about how
'first ferrets' are often sent as a trick to get you hooked on ferrets; none
of my guys since then are as well-behaved!)
 
At the time I was working at a homeless shelter, specifically with homeless
people recovering from illness or injury, who were thus allowed to spend
their days at the shelter (instead of just nights).  I was the recreation
person.  Now most of these people were alcoholics or addicts, and were
really not up for much recreation (I didn't last too long at this job, what
I didn't know then could fill a book).  But I had just gotten Mr. Fuzzy
Wuzzy so I brought him in occasionally.  Well, everyone LOVED him.  There
were even one or two people who knew what a ferret was.  He was by far my
most successful 'activity.' He was a WONDERFUL ambassador, very gentle,
never bit anyone.  One fine day, another staff member told me ferrets were
illegal.  I thought he was joking, but alas, this was Massachusetts in the
Dark Ages (B.L.--Before Legalization).
 
Soon after that, the public health nurse at the shelter told me not to bring
Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy in anymore because she didn't want anyone to get bitten.
Huh?  Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy never bit anyone.  Like I said, most of these people
were alcoholics and addicts living on the street.  Their lives were harsh
and awful, and I know Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy was one of the few bright spots in
their day.  So I had to stop bringing him to work with me.  Not a day went
by when someone didn't ask me when I would bring him back in.
 
And that was my first ferret.
 
--Ronnie
Ralphie, Harry, Prince Charming, Merlin, Roxanne & little Petunia
("mom, tell us the story about when brave Mr. Fuzzy Wuzzy conquered the
bad-lady-next-door's flower arrangement")
[Posted in FML issue 2177]