The following is a story which first appeared in the Independent Voice in
1994.  Since people are writing about their first ferret experience,
thought I would post this because it was already written!  I will try to
find time to up-date on the Millennium ferret baby-things tomorrow.
 
Our adventure into the world of ferrets started when my daughter, then in
grade school, decided she needed a fluffy little animal to love.  She had
never really known our cats because she was quite young when the last one
passed away and was not replaced due to allergies.
 
On calling several pet stores to investigate into small animals for pets,
the word "ferret" kept coming up.  I supposed at the time that they were
captured animals from chicken coops and such.  Nevertheless, off we went
to our local pet store to investigate this animal called a ferret.  Big
mistake.  Never go to a pet store with your child and your checkbook at the
same time.
 
The ferrets shown to us looked kind of weird to me.  My daughter Amanda
promptly fell in love with the scrawniest looking one, who also was
obviously a little older than the others.  "How about one of these others?"
I hopefully asked.  "At least they have fur."  No, the scrawny, rough-coated
one who at that moment was biting a hole in my finger was the one for her.
"She is on sale for half price," said the smart salesperson.  "Sale," I
said, immediately becoming alert.
 
Well, without going into all the details, we left the pet shop sometime
later with a ton of equipment and a funny looking animal.  Arriving home,
we set her on the floor to show her off to my husband.  That was the last
we saw of her for some hours.  "Maybe you should have bought a net along
with the other stuff," my husband commented.  "She's got to get tired
sometime," I offered hopefully.  "That's when we'll grab her."  Secretly I
was relieved.  She must be healthy, despite her looks, or else she would
not have so much energy.
 
Finally, of course, she was captured and popped into her new cage (not on
sale) and given food, etc. (also not on sale).  While she ate, I sat down
to read the book (also not on sale) I had purchased about ferrets.  "Oh,
no," I exclaimed after carefully comparing pictures of rather cute animals
with our new pet.  "I think we have purchased a rat!"
 
The following day I took her to the local vet for shots and a check-up.
Although he did not specifically handle ferrets (there were not too many
ferret specialists around in those days), he agreed to see her.  "What do
you think she is?" I asked.  Looking at me a little oddly, he said, "she's
a ferret."  I was relieved.  He administered the vaccine, and Frisky (named
because of her energy level) bolted over his shoulder and hit the floor
running.  She ran through the open door toward the back of the clinic, with
the vet in hot pursuit.  "Do you want me to help?" I called.  He didn't
hear me.  There was a crash and someone screamed, "Watch out, a rat is
loose!" I heard a commotion in the waiting room and looked in time to see
Frisky racing through.  Two dogs attacked each other.  A cat clawed its
owner.  I sat on the floor and whistled.  Surprisingly, she jumped into my
lap and promptly climbed on the top of my head.
 
When we went to pay our bill, the receptionist suggested that we find
another vet to care for this "disruptive animal." Why don't you buy a net?"
I haughtily suggested.
 
When we got to the car, I looked at Frisky and started to laugh.  I laughed
until I had tears in my eyes.  "You're my kind of pet," I told her, and
thus began our ferret odyssey.
 
When Frisky was about three months old, I came in from work and took a good
look at her.  "She is lonely," I proclaimed.  "We need another ferret to
keep her company."  So, off to the pet store we went again.  This time, I
told my daughter that I got to choose the ferret.  I chose a large male kit
with a huge head, body like a triangle, and silky coat.  Promptly dubbed
"Whiskey" by my daughter, we took him home and introduced him to Frisky.
She sniffed him all over, licked him from stem to stern, and they started
to play.
 
By the time Whiskey joined our family, Frisky had become quite a kick.  She
had a human toe fetish, with exception of my daughter's toes.  In fact, she
hissed every time she saw those ominous toes.  Amanda had reflex-kicked
Frisky after a good chomp, and Frisky never forgot.
 
She loved to steal socks and chew on sweaters, making a squeaky noise while
doing so.  Her favorite sweater, one of my husband's, we left partially
hanging out of the drawer.  She would grasp it with her teeth, let her
body swing loose, close her eyes in bliss, and make her scrunchy-sounding
"music" as she chewed.
 
By this time, Frisky and Whisky knew their names, came when called, and
were endlessly ready for fun and games.  Soon we could not imagine our
lives without ferrets.  (Whiskey was lost during routine surgery from the
anesthesia - very dangerous to ferrets many years ago.  Frisky lived to be
very old indeed as did my other "first ferrets" which were Marshall Farms.
Life expectancy was easy 8 to 12 years.  Little did I know back then that
ferrets would become my main love in life.  Frisky never did have much of
a coat, but every year she came into a glorious tail!  Lush and thick it
was quite a contrast to her normal short coat).
 
Cheers,
Meg
[Posted in FML issue 2922]