Dear Ferret Folks-

Every now and again I have to remind myself that we have new people on
the FML who do not know me very well. If you do not recognize my name,
rest assured that I have *no* tact whatsoever, and never have. I am
also easily amused. Keep this in mind, and the following will make
perfect sense.

Today I went to the MAFF Annual Picnic (Massachusett Ferret Friends) in
Natick, MA. I go every year. Lots of games, a nice variety of vendors,
and a variety of cool ferret people. *This* year a breeder came, and
she brought hobs. HUGE hobs. Hobs so big you needed a handle to pick
'em up, like a suitcase. I didn't even know ferrets *got* that big!
They were like small dogs, only small dogs that looked a heck of a lot
like ferrets. She raises them herself, and they are gorgeous.

I mentioned to a lady I was speaking with that I had never *seen* such
large ferrets, and she explained that I was looking at intact males.
She flipped one upside-down for me and there they were, his little
treasures. I am so glad that I didn't have a mouth full of coffee,
because she would have been wearing it at that moment. He was obviously
so *proud* of his little 'nads, he displayed them as if we hoomins
should certainly be as impressed with them as he was. Think small.
Think furry. But they were everything to him. He flung his wee legs out
wide to display his glory, and I laughed until the world got brown at
the edges, so did the lady. He didn't care. It's a guy thing. He was
*grinning.*

I am not sure that I have ever seen anything as ridiculous as ferret
balls. I think we should pass a law requiring ferrets to keep them,
just for the sheer entertainment value. Plus, the world is a better
place with ferrets the size of five pound sacks of flour. The only
male I have ever owned, Ping is He, had *his* factory stock equipment
removed at an early age, and as a result he is not much larger than the
females I have had. Longer, and stockier through the shoulders. But it
makes me sad to think of the hunky, chunky chick magnet he might have
been.

When it was Ping's Out Time this evening I took a peek under his tail.
Nothing. Not even a trace of mustellid manhood. Like a Ken doll, or
maybe Michael Jackson. Poor Ping. He can smell *real* hob on my hands,
and he looks dismayed. I'm not sure he knows what has been done to him.
But if it were possible and I had money to burn, I'd get 'em put back!

There. Told you I was tactless.

Alexandra in MA

Ping: "What are you *giggling* at?"
Puma: "It's a chick thing!"

[Posted in FML 5732]