Hello everyone,
 
My name is John Campanie.  I have been subscribed to this list for just over
a month.  I have been completely happy lurking and listening to you all.  I
am also quite new to the Internet.  I joined a number of mailing lists in my
eagerness to explore "The Information Superhighway," -- what I found, was a
lot of useless chatter.  This list has been the exception, and a glowing one
it is.  Bill has moderated the list, I think, excellently.  There is
definitely a happy medium between hard facts and humorous and obviously
heart-felt stories.  I have enjoyed each and every item I have read.  It is a
great joy for me to see that such a small animal has such a large and caring
following.  I have been honored to be part of the FML, but it seems that all
good things come to an end.  Which brings me to the reason I did, after all,
post to this list.
Just over a year ago (on April Fool's Day to be exact) I purchased a ferret
through a friend I have at the newspaper at which I work.  It was a simple
idea -- Single man, empty apartment + small pet = happy home.  Little did I
know how she would fasten herself to my life and my heart.  The Snake Pit, my
ferret source, was located in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York.  They didn't
openly disply ferrets as it is (to my knowledge) illegal to sell them -- a
Ferret Free Zone.  So I had to talk to the owner, Anthony, a really nice guy
who had had his share of exotic pets.  He quickly affirmed that he could
obtain a good specimen, and would discount her to me.  He searched all over
Brooklyn and Queens, finally settling on a private breeeder.  He picked her
out and brought her to the store to meet me.  At first sight she wasn't much,
no more than a little ball of fur, really.  I had always wanted a ferret but
didn't know much about them.  She wanted out of the box immediately and
didn't hesitate to make that fact known.  A friend was with me and we were
both smitten with the little rug-rat.  She was so CURIOUS.  Inquisitive.
Like an explorer.  It's too bad that such a great characteristic could be
one's downfall.
We took her from the store and from that point on I was suddenly friends with
everyone! No one (well, few people anyway) could resist her charms. Every kid
within fifty feet was drawn like moths to a flame, irresistably. She too,
revelled in the attention. A real character.
In my college days, I belonged to a rugby team named the "Potsdam Polecats."
A polecat for those of you who have not yet discovered the joy of ferretry,
is a layman's term for a skunk or ferret, among others.  So it wasn't a great
leap of imagination that lead me to name the spunky jill RUGBY.
Rugby, over the course of a year, flourished.  I took her everywhere with me.
On trains, in cars, on the subway.  She made friends wherever she went.  And
I, in turn grew to appreciate the species and to love her.  To everyone who
would pet, cuddle, hold, or kiss her, I tried to impart some piece of
information that they had previously been unaware.  We were not only
attention-getters, but also EDUCATORS.  Rugby, with her gentle attitude and
calm patience was a star exhibit.  She disproved every ferret-hater's comment
by her very presence.  What a girl!  She rode in my jacket everywhere as I
couldn't find a proper bag for her.  Even, I hesitate to admit, to bars.  I
think that most of South Brooklyn knew Rugby and me with the newspaper I work
for.  She was the mascot who wasn't -- the unsung hero.
Anyway, I had always hoped to post all of the crazy antics that you people
are familiar with -- knocking over glasses, messing in the corner, hiding my
papers, sleeping in the laundry, digging through the  floor of the bathroom
(yes, she did that too), but I never got around to it, although I did enjoy
IMMENSELY all of your input. Every morning when I first got into work I would
read the FML, the only mailing list I remain on, to lift me up. Never did I
miss Rugby more than after hearing of all the antics of your loved ones. I
would rush home to see, her, hold her and sleep with her.
Last Saturday, Easter Eve, at 7 p.m.  I took my garbage out to the street,
overlooking the most basic precaution of my ferret-proofed apartment,
latching the door.  I could have sworn I heard it latch.  Well I took out the
trash (1 minute later), with Rugby roaming freely around the basement
apartment.  It was such a nice night out, a neighbor was barbecuing.  He
struck up conversation with me briefly (4 min later) and I returned to my
apartment (five minutes total lapse).  No Rugby.  Under the couch?  No.  In
the bathroom?  No.  In the laundry?  No.  OUTSIDE.
My worst fear confirmed. She managed to get out after months of constantly
battling my every effort of containment. I know she loves me, but there are
things to do...places to go...
We searched, me, my girlfriend and the neighbors, with no great hope of
success, I'm afraid. I've learned a lot about ferret psychology. She's gone.
Where? Who knows... At least I have the luxury of imagining someone nice
stumbling upon a chipper, dooking critter and taking them home, I hope. The
alternatives aren't as pretty.
So for all you ferret owners out there, take a minute and appreciate that
warm, cuddly furball, because no matter how much you love them, there are
things to do...places to go...
John Campanie
[log in to unmask]
 
P.S. Maybe it IS sympathy I want, but don't I deserve it...she was my best
friend! Any suggestions for carrying on would be appreciated. Sympathy
letters private e-mail only, thanks. Don't want to clutter up the FML after
all...
[Posted in FML issue 1168]