Dear Ferret Folks-

Got back to Massachusetts from Mexico this evening. My eighteen year
old niece, who is a good soul but not a ferret person sat for Todd and
Hebert while we were gone. I came home to a rather fragrant cage, but
no harm done. Once the suitcases had been raided for necessary things
and the world quieted down a bit I let the boys out for a short romp.

Well, Todd nearly went ballistic with joy when let out. He ran back and
forth, sometimes backing up a few steps and tossing his head with an
open mouth to show his joy at being free. It was as if he were running
around and saying " I am Todd. Todd! TODD! Yesss! I am Todd and it is
so *good* to be me at this moment! I am Toood! Todd-Todd-Todd!"

It was a good thing to see. Very good.

Hebert came out of the cage more slowly, and was largely content to be
held and admired while Todd continued his frenetic eponymous dance at
my feet. Todd thudded and leaped and rappelled off of my shins while
Hebert sat quietly in my hands and regarded me. "Ah, you are back."
Nothing more than that. Well, Hebert is as thick as a brick so I
wouldn't have expected much more than that from him. Maybe a murky
thought about food. But no more than that.

Todd, on the other hand celebrated, well, whatever it is that makes
weasels celebrate. Too long in the cage? Happy to see his people again?
Or maybe it is just so danged *good* to be Todd. Or maybe all three. I
was just happy to hold a weasel again, after a few weeks without. To
rub the blunt little ears, to admire the thick, winter-mink coats.

I didn't think even once about soul-less Ferret Grinches, or Shelter
Controversies, Kibble VS. Raw, or why some people think that I
shouldn't be allowed weasels anymore. I didn't think about tension in
the Middle East, (Tension. Now THERE'S a euphemism!) nor problems on
the domestic front. No Wall Street horror. No foreclosure horror. No
joblessness statistics. I was able to think about Ping, about Puma and
remember good things, good times, and not have that crushing feeling
wrap around my head that all too often comes with remembering how they
left this world. I just enjoyed my ferrets, and they enjoyed being
ferrets.

And isn't that a good thing? I think so. Yes, I do. As I grow older I
am much more likely to stop and appreciate little things like this when
I can. A good moment. A good memory. A wise man or woman pays attention
to such things. But learning to let go of the bad things? I should
emulate my ferret friends more closely. Find the joy. Find a reason
to live in the joy. Dance my dance. Fuzz my tail. Throw my head back
and show my fangs. Dig in the J-Feeder, and knock over all of the
wastebaskets. Some days I think that the world wants me back in the
cage, unseen in my hammie. Wellll, I don't think so. The night is not
over yet, and there are still water glasses to tip.

Alexandra, back in MA

[Posted in FML 6205]