Dear Ferret Folks-

This morning Todd used his Ferret Mojo against me. *Me.* The one who
gave him a home, toys, plays Flip the Blankie with him, bowls him
across the kitchen floor, lets him help me change the bedsheets, (it
only takes about forty-five minutes when he helps) buys him ferretone
and 8 in 1 sticky vitamin paste, nailed landscaping tubing from Home
Depot up near the cieling for his pleasure....*me*. I thought we had
an understanding. We were equals.

NO.

Well, I did try to stop him. But I was no match for his Ferret Mojo. He
scrambled up onto my lap, sniffed the air, and used his "Pleeaseeee"
eyes. The deep dark hypnotic ones, like endless chocolate mocha
frosting. He stood very still on my expanding belly as I lounged in my
soft chair and he looked up and into my eyes....I was helpless. The
fork fell from my paralyzed hand. Moist, ebony chocolate crumbs spilled
all down the front of my red velvet bathrobe and lay there like rich
ore from the center of the earth. I heard the music of the spheres, my
vision blurred....

I could only watch helplessly as Todd reached his blunt-eared little
head into my white china bowl, the one that held my breakfast cake.
Yes, breakfast cake. Cake is a wholesome product made from wheat, eggs,
fresh milk, and lots of chocolate mocha frosting. He selected the
largest stripe of light-brown decorative piped frosting and started
licking delicately. He hitched his ears back half a notch, and kept his
whiskers lifted so that they did not get sticky. He closed his eyes in
bliss, and licked...

I wondered if this was how the hapless victims of Vampires feel...
powerless, powerless. Aware of the obscene indignity being done to
them, yet helpless to take the initiative, protect themselves, get the
garlic salt, escape! The decorative piped strip of frosting began to
disappear, revealing the deeper brown of the chocolate veneer below it.
I thought "Fight back! Save Todd from himself! Frosting is *bad* for
weasels!" The fingers of my dominant fork hand twitched in response,
but that was all the defense I could muster. I watched the overlapping
pattern of weasel tongue-prints expand across the surface of my
breakfast. Todd adjusted his stance on my belly and sighed in perfect
chocolate mocha delight.

The violation seemed endless, endless. Oh, I remember isolated memories
from the event that now seem as nothing but a loose spill of snapshots
tossed across the floor by some careless hand. Whiskers. The tiny, tiny
dark eyelashes. The feel of the little paws against my belly. The
glossy fur of Todd's scruff, his shoulder blades shifting beneath the
fur. The look of indignation on the dog's face as the ferret grazed
like a bloating cow upon the cake that *she,* a professional dog fully
expected to finish for me.

Finally, at long last, it ended and Todd jumped *heavily* down onto the
carpeted floor. He staggered a little, but made it back to his cage and
hammie where is is currently in a confectioner's sugar coma.

I feel so used....

Alexandra in MA
Todd: "URRRP!!" 

[Posted in FML 6306]