Dear Ferret Folks-
 
This afternoon I held my little Lily the Forever Weasel in my arms, while
we both sat on the floor in one of those thin, pale, winter sunbeams.
The sun wanted to warm the world today, she tried her golden best, but
the ground and all the trees here are buried beneath countless tons of
snow and the black December nights are so long... Still, we had our own
sunbeam and that was something to be grateful for.  Lily enjoyed the
moment as much as I did.  She half closed her dark, shining eyes and
thought far away weasel thoughts.
 
I stroked her whiskers and that dark line that runs down her belly, and
I promise you, she was not thinking about shelter controversies or who
might have said what to whom.  One of her back feet with all of those
marvelously intricate little pink toes twitched in her reverie.  Was she
dreaming about a war dance, or an especially satisfying rush through a
dark tube?  Feeling the sides of the tube brush against her whiskers as
she ran?  I promise you, she was not thinking about shelter controversies
or who might have said what to whom.
 
She might have been thinking about pouncing on a raisin, or standing to
lick a bit of sticky, rich, ferret-vite from a spoon.  She might have
been thinking about ramming Switch the Kit in the ribs with her head,
and sending them both sprawling into that dark place beneath the kitchen
table for a session of open-mouthed wrestling, complete with hissing
sound effects.  But I promise you, she was not burdening her fuzzy little
Karma with thoughts about shelter controversies or who might have said
what to whom.  And perhaps, just perhaps, we would do well to follow her
example.
 
Alexandra in Massachusetts
 
Switch the Kit :"Well, what do the hoomins need all of this Prozac for?
Can't they stomach raisins?"
Hurricane Lily :" (Sighing mightily) Heeeeeeeee..."
[Posted in FML issue 4012]