The following is from a letter I sent to Ferrets Magazine:
 
Imagine my surprise!--there, on the list of worst ferret names was my
beloved Fatboy!  Really?!  Worse than Charles Manson?  Jeffery Dahmer?
Stinky?  Worse than Poopie, or any of the other names from the previous
page?  Let me tell you about Fatboy.  One day, nearly six years ago, I
walked into one of those mall pet stores to check on the baby ferrets.
There, in the midst of a mass of little squirmy babies, was an especially
tiny, way too tiny--little guy.  He was obviously the runt, and while
his siblings were big enough for solid food, he wasn't: his rectum had
prolapsed.  He hardly had the strength to move but he still had plenty
of spirit, and was demonstrating it by trying to bite anything that came
near him.  The shopgirl told me that he just wasn't any good, so it made
more sense to let him die and get the refund than to spend the money on
the vet.
 
A few hours later, my spunky little boy had been liberated, seen a vet
and been stitched up, and was eating AD like he was starving--which he
was.  He ate like that for months, and while he kept a slightly runty
frame, he became strong and husky.
 
You can't imagine how proud and happy his little belly made me.  It was
a symbol of his victory over death, his badge of honor.  His original
name was Buster, because he was such a fighter.  Buster slowly gave
way to Fatboy, one of the many nicknames I used to celebrate his new,
beautiful girth.  Even though he's deaf, I got the feeling that he seemed
to respond to it better than any other name.  After all, the fight was
over, he had won, and the new name announced that fact to the world.  I
hope his story serves as a reminder that we can't judge animals (or other
people) by our own assumptions.  Sometimes fat truly is beautiful.
 
Sincerely,
Clover Williams and Fatboy
[Posted in FML issue 5116]