I live on a ground floor apartment with a low living room window, and
unrelenting southern exposure, making my place a solar furnace.  So, I slide
open the window and stick a fan in the opening.  I also have two ferrets,
Max and Edgar.  Edgar is relatively thin and small and can't quite get up to
the sill.  Max is a two foot long beast with enough hops to be able to leap
to the window sill and then down to the ground in about two seconds, if need
be.  Usually there is a fan in his way, and he struggles and scratches a bit
to get up, and then hesitates before trying to get down to the ground,
providing enough warning and time to grab him before he makes it.  Most
every time=20I stop him long before he even tries to get up, either by
bopping him on the nose, diverting his attention, closing the window (and
dying of heat stroke), or locking the both of them in the kitchen (their
"jail").  Practice makes perfect, of course.  Over the weeks of warm
weather, Max has become more stealthy, adept, and fearless.  Several times I
have pulled him in at the last second.  Once, a few weeks ago, I was sitting
right here (5 yards from the window, with a clear, direct view), and the
nice woman next door says "Hello?" through my window, and, you guessed it,
she's got Max, who had gone to visit them.  Had they not been outside at the
time...whither Max?  Sooo... over the past two weeks I have scooped Max up
off the ground about three times, each of which I just missed him on the
sill, so no big deal, right?  Last night he zips up and out, and I'm there
in about 5 seconds.  No Max.  I climb out.  No movement in the vines and
other foliage on the ground.  My friend starts saying that he ran into my
bedroom (?), but I *know* I saw his fuzzy butt= go over the sill.  I finally
find him in about 20 seconds over towards the neighbors.  Whew!  You'd think
I'd learn.  Tonight I'm working in the living room with the computer and a
halogen floor lamp on.  The place is heating up.  A lot.  The ferrets are
elswhere, so I open the window and stick the fan in the opening.  What
relief.  A bit later the ferrets have settled down and gone to sleep under
the futon, where I take some papers to= file in files next to the futon.  At
some point I hear a "little voice" whisper something about checking on the
ferrets, but I am busy, and besides, I will see and hear if they come out,
and certainly if Max were to scratch his way up to the sill.  A bit later,
maybe five minutes, I do check on the ferrets.  There's Edgar, under the
futon, just woken up, and.... I get a better angle, and grab the handy
flashlight.  I check the other side of the frame.  I lift up the frame.  I
lift up the other side.  No Max!  "....no...no..." I sweep the apartment.
Gone.  I race to the window, move the fan, and look down.  Nothing.  I jump
out, and stand still.  No movement.  No Max.  I walk around a fifteen foot
radius looking for immediate signs.  Nothing.  Go back in grab the
flashlight and the only thing he ever comes for: the squeeky pink head of
chipmunk, as well as Edgar (on a leash), thinking he might be of some help.
I search the landscaping in front of the apartment from the curb, looking
down to most of the area.  Edgar is fussy, and apparently going to be more
of a burden than a help, since I'm thinking I don't want him on the ground,
where I might let go of the leash while working the flashlight and
squeeky-toy.  No Max.  I put Edgar back inside.  Back outside, I search the
The Pit (about five feet down) underneath the elevated concrete walkway
dividing off part of the landscaping.  Under the walkway itself.  The
landscaping on the other side of the walkway.  Aaaah!  Nothing.  For about
an hour or so I search the perimeter of the apartment, the block I live on
and a block in every direction: Figuring he wouldn't have gone past the
dead-end I live on towards the busy street below, I start up the hill in the
opposite direction.  I get about a half-block up the hill and start to
breathe a bit heavier, and I think, "If *I'm* starting to breath heavier, no
way did Mr. Fat-butt make it this far.  He's probably lain down and gone to
sleep somewhere." And I *knew* *that* had to be true; that little voice
again.  Lazy ferret.  Nonetheless, I must keep searching; what other option?
Three or four laps around the apartment and the building next door which has
a walkway along the 1-2 acre "greenbelt", which connects one side of the
block with the other, where I think he must have gone, if he indeed went
anywhere.  Stopping every few feet along and into (as far as I could go) the
greenbelt to squeek his toy.  Nothing.  Around the block again.  Around the
aparment again.  Around the next block twice.  Back to the greenbelt,
entering from a different side.  Re-check the landscaping in front of the
apartment.  By now, I've taken out and put back my bicycle, rechecked the
apartment at least three times, and done at least six circuits around the
area.  I'm starting to *really* miss him, like maybe he's not just gone for
a couple hours, tears welling up a bit as I go back into my apartment to
see, again, if he was just hiding somewhere.  Nothing but Egdar, who's quite
happy to see me, front paws up on my leg.  I decide to try using Edgar as a
bloodhound.  Yeah, right.  Leash on.  Outside to just below the windows.  He
seems to pick up a scent and then gradually swims his way through the wet
vines and other six-inch high foliage towards the neighbors, where he
becomes quite interested in their little barbeque.  Hmmmm, maybe not.
 
I take him back over to the window and he sniffs around some more and then
works his way in the other direction, with rather a bit of bounce and
enthusiasm.  About twenty feet away, he checks out The Pit, almost falling
in.  (Gotta love the harness leash!) Then up the dirt slope under the
walkway.  He *really* wants to continue under the walkway and up the bank,
but no way am I letting go of the leash, nor do I see any Max under there.
I take him around to the other side and set him on the curb, next to where
the bank, walkway, and curb meet, thinking maybe he'll pick up the scent on
this side.  He wanders down the curb a couple yards.  And then...a noise.  I
swivel and look at the foliage at the top of the bank next to the walkway
and catch the briefest flash of two blue-green gems.  *That* wasn't like
those *other* false flashes of light in the eyes.  I see a critter...could
be rat or possum, best not to get my hopes up.  Squeek the toy.  Out bounces
a ferret!  But...dim light...underbrush...that doesn't look like Max.  This
approaching ferret is dusty brown and uniform in color, unlike Max, a silver
mitt.  "How odd that I should lose Max and find this ferret!  Hope it
doesn't have rabies..." The ferret approaches, and HEY!...it IS Max!  Dirty
paws and all!  A good rinse in the tub for both of them, and generous
helpings of Linatone.  Aside from what must be slug slime on a couple of his
paws and in a few spots on his fur, Max is none the worse.  I *knew* he was
sleeping somewhere.  I remember now how ferrets are used in England strictly
for hunting, and not kept as pets.  I guess Edgar had started to miss Max,
too, and was able to sniff him out.  The moral of the story, of course, is
that silver mitts *really can* teleport!  :-)
[Posted in FML issue 1635]