Dear Ferret Folks-
I agree with Jeff, Alicia's compendium of "Lessons Learned From
Ferrets" is a very interesting topic.
Ferrets have taught me about something that does not come easily to
me--simple, uncomplicated joy. I don't mean ROFL laughter, I mean
the quiet appreciation of life on life's terms in the moment...how
wonderful a single moment or experience can be if your heart is
prepared to embrace it fully. My first ferret Don't, sister of No
taught me about this.
Simple things made Don't so happy. Taking a ride in the pick up truck,
lying upside-down on the dashboard in the full sun, face and whiskers
up to the sky, watching the world race by. She used to love that. And
although obviously I was too big to lie upside-down on the dashboard
myself, just watching Don't enjoy those moments made me feel good,
too. Every time.
Her simple delight when I would go through the Dunkin' Donuts
Drive-Thru and order a bagel with salmon cream cheese on the side. The
pink, fishy cream cheese came in a little container that I would hold
still for Don't so that she could lick it clean after I had smeared
the bulk of the cream cheese on my bagel. She trusted me to hold it
carefully still so that she could enjoy every speck. She knew I would
do that for her every time, we were friends. Friends help one another.
Don't so enjoyed going for a walk on her leash through the campus of a
college I was taking a few courses at. She knew her route by heart. She
always turned at the same places, anticipating the way to class. And
along the way, there were formal planters and garden beds full of rich
earth and decorative bark mulch. She would stop, and I would patiently
wait for her to do a little digging here and there. She would burrow
into the earth until her head and shoulders disappeared, the she came
up "fnnnfing" and blowing dust and dirt out of her snout...then she
would go on to enjoy the next, and the next. It was serious ferret
business, but she embraced the responsibility without reservation, in
peaceful acceptance. And she enjoyed each pawful or earth that she
moved, each one. None were taken for granted.
She had her simple pleasures at home, too. She was just a little girl--
always just a tad under a pound. But she was a world class potato
dragger. I kept a ten pound paper sack of potatoes in the pantry
closet, on the floor. And sometimes it was her job to climb inside,
select a potato that weighed considerably more than she did, and drag
it a good twenty or thirty feet and stash it under some furniture. She
used to grunt with effort as she dragged these mammoth brown boulders
across the floor. Sometimes she'd let go, and circle around and around
the potato, considering it like an artist considering the block of
marble that he envisioned a beautiful statue emerging from. And then
she'd sink her fangs into a different spot, and off she would go.
All of these labors...some that I understood and some that I did not.
She performed them *joyfully*. Never hurrying, never doing any of them
half-way. And she moved through the cycle of each day like that, taking
joy in the simple things. A sunny dashboard. A lick of cream cheese. A
patch of rich bark mulch. The earthy perfume of a potato. All enjoyed
and appreciated in their turn. I remember Don't often, and I have tried
to live a bit more like her. Joyfully.
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML 5849]
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