Dear Ferret Folks-

I have a routine for letting the boys out for their daily romp and
stomps. Close the back door, close my bedroom door, close the cat door,
close the toilet lid, pick up the dog's food bowl so that the boys
don't humiliate her by munching out of it. My poor dog Allis Chompers.
She doesn't growl or out act when the ferrets eat from her kibble bowl.
She stands there mournfully, dog lips hanging heavy, soulful eyebrows
lifted in the very picture of metaphysical suffering. The boys stand
half in, half out of her bowl and crunch her kibbles one at a time as
if they were the most delectable junk food imaginable. Pretzel nuggets.
Sour cream and chive potato chips. Cheeze balls.

The ferrets *should* be afraid to transgress like that. Allis is a
wolf, and sometimes her actions show it. Every day, every single day
I remember that she took the life of my sweet Ping is He. I have long
since forgiven her. She did not understand that it was wrong. Her
wolfness demanded it of her at the time. Accordingly, I try to avoid
anything that might bring out her wolfness, such as weasels using her
food bowl as an all you can eat buffet.

There are other threats to her dignity, chief among them the worshipful
adoration of Sterling, the Silver cat. Sterling does not understand
that it is a perversion of the natural order to love on the dog. The
cat comes running into the house through his wall flap, looks for the
dog and makes a bee-line for her. Sterling rubs his face and sides
against Allis, really leaning into her. Allis picks her head up so that
Sterling can't reach to touch noses, and she wines piteously. It is
clear from her body language that she is absolutely revolted by the
cat's actions, but long association has taught her that she *can't*
get away from this affectionate display. She simply has to tough it
out. Sterling rubs his face against her chest and purrs until he
drools. Allis backs away and whimpers. Sterling follows. This happens
several times a day, pretty much every time Sterling lets himself in.

We take it for granted that our companion animals largely "get along."
But what do they mean to one another? What does Allis think of ferrets,
now that she has mortally wounded one?Does she even understand what
she did? What do Todd and Caff-Pow think of her? Would they miss her
if she were gone? They would love to play with her if only she would
co-operate, if only I would allow it. I know what Sterling thinks of
Caff-Pow. He despises him. Caff-Pow lies in wait behind dark furniture
and leaps out at the cat, knocking him to the floor. Sterling
bunny-kicks and howls his outrage. Caff-Pow wants to do it again, and
again, and again. Sterling escapes through his cat door, after saying
a few horrendous things in ancestral feline. There are all of these
tangled relationships twining all around me, every single day. I'm sure
I only pick up on the highlights.

Every now and then I stumble over something significant in the inner
lives of this bunch. Tonight I let the boys out, and forgot to pick up
the dog's bowl right away. I saw Allis out of the corner of my eye,
standing over her bowl and munching thoughtfully, as if something
wasn't quite right. That little light bulb of memory flashed into
brightness above my head and I got up to take the bowl away for safety.

And then I noticed it...smack in the middle of the dog's kibble in
the bowl was an adolescent bird, quite dead. I think it was a young
goldfinch. The *only* way it could have gotten there was if either my
husband or the cat put it there. I asked my husband. "NO". That left
the cat, who is sometimes found squatting beside the dog's bowl like an
Egyptian sphynx, crunching, should I neglect to fill his in a timely
fashion. Sterling acquired that bird, brought it in through the cat
flap, and gifted the dog with it.

What did it mean? Was it just "I'll store my bird in a food place until
I get around to it"? Or was this an act of pure altruism? "Here is a
dead bird for you dog, thought you might enjoy it. I find finches
particularly tasty and I've noticed that you can't procure them on
your own". That's what friends are for, I guess, when you have paws.

I will never know, never know. And I would dearly love to. I dearly
wish that they could speak to me, just for a little while. They never
will. It is not their nature. That is part of their charm, and part of
what makes some people feel that they can exploit our animal friends
at will. They can't speak for themsleves. I spend most of my day home
alone with the cat, the dog, the chickens, the ferrets. And I imagine
the conversations that they would have with one another, with me. And
my life is rich in wit and compassion and camaraderie, with joy and
sorrow and wisdom. With ridiculous moments like finding the bird in the
chow bowl. With the crushing sorrow of having one furred companion turn
against another.

And a part of me thanks *God* that I don't have children, because
they'd grow up believing that you can have a perfectly good
conversation with a hen, and DSS would get involved. Well...hens have
a lot to say, if you only take the time to listen. And ferrets pretty
much never shut up, not when they are awake. I'm pretty sure DSS would
*not* understand. Me, I'll settle for a good chat with a weasel any
day. That's just one more thing that friends are for.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6373]