I was in the kitchen this afternoon trying to recreate a certain non-ferret
related sauce that I concocted a few weeks ago.  Seems that I hadn't kept
any notes on my conjurings the first time and was trying to get it all
wriiten down so I could share the recipe with the folks who had asked for
it.  The telephone interrupted my mad mutterings over the mixing bowl.  It
was the nurse at the Workman's Comp office checking to see if I was still
alive and 'kicking'.  As I cried on her shoulder about just having yet
another needle plunged into the depths of my hip joint, I heard a small
commotion emanating from the kitchen.  I didn't think much of it at the
time.  When you live with nine cats and two ferrets you get used to hearing
strange noises in the house.
 
I'll have to back up for just a moment.  It seems that Odie has developed
into a very accomplished escape artist.  He and Tater stay in the bedroom
except for supervised visits with the cat critters.  Odie, however, has been
turning up in some very strange places.  He appears to have developed the
ability to teleport himself out of the bedroom at will.  Our theory is that
he pulls these escapes off when I make those frequent nocturnal visits to
the little room down the hall.  We have no evidence to back this theory up.
We choose to believe it rather than admitting that we have a ferret with
paranormal powers.  Needless to say, the whole house is now ferret proofed.
Heck it needed a little fixing up anyway.
 
When I got done talking the the nurse lady, I went back to the kitchen to
resume my sauce wizarding.  You will never guess who I found sitting
triumpantly on the counter where the mixing bowl had been, licking a
spoonful of delicious red stuff.  Yep, it was Odie.  The mixing bowl was
upside down on the floor of course.  (Murphy's law of ferrets strikes
again.) Leading from the spreading pool of mess that oozed from the bowl was
a set of sauce prints that seemed to lead to the bathroom.  I followed the
trail and found the most miserable looking cat I had ever seen siting in the
bathtub.  It was poor old Thor.  He was covered, head to tail, with
unfinished sauce.  He was doing his best to clean himself but I could tell
it was a losing battle.  I did my best not to further injure his dignity and
start belly laughing at the first barbecued cat I had ever laid eyes on.  It
was difficult but I mangaged, somehow.
 
Mee Maw and I were left with a task that I wouldn't wish on the meanest
grumpy person.  Have you ever tried to give a bath to a humiliated,
embarassed and angry cat?  Not a pretty picture.  Odie didn't help much when
he bounced into the bathroom and suggested that we put Thor in the dryer for
a few minutes on fluff dry.  That drew a very stern NONO BADFERRET from Mee
Maw.  He's back in the bedroom now.  I can hear him and Tater laughing
hysterically about Odie's adventure.  Thor is wrapped up in warm soft towels
and doing his best to act dignified.
 
Moral to the story: If you gotta go, don't let your ferret go with you.
OR... Never bathe a sauced cat.  Wait till he sobers up a bit.
 
Many much loves,
 
Paw Paw
[Posted in FML issue 1615]