She was nothing more than a wisp of white, curled in the corner of the
only home she knew.  She was lifted up and placed in my hands, yet
remained asleep.  I gently blew on her, and the white puff was punctuated
first by a pink nose, and then by a yawn.  Sleepy eyes blinked in my
direction, then a tiny, perfect tongue licked my palm.  Twisting to her
back, the wisp of white returned to her slumber, curled on my palm.  I
had to have her; it was meant to be.
 
That night she was placed in a temporary isolation cage until shots and
examination could be arranged.  She cried the wail of the lonely, of the
abandoned, and only my shirt pocket would suffice.  She made the pocket
her home for the next few days, darting under my shirt, or scaling my
head when the desire arose.  She would eat from my palm and lick water
from my moistened fingers while awaiting a name.
 
Her soon to be introduced companions were Moose, Stella, and Dae; the
names fit and my loving friends forgave the pun.  The white wisp was to
be known as Tori, shortened from Putorius.  She was a handful, too small
to be taken seriously, yet teeth too sharp to be ignored.  Soon, she was
known as "Tori the Tiger" for her advanced hunting skills.  Cockroaches,
water bugs, and spiders all rued the day they crept into Tori's presence;
the cracking of carapaces drowned their cries of extinction as Tori
practiced her own version of Darwinism.
 
Tori learned to fly, and would launch herself from any precipice whenever
the yearning was felt.  Usually, so her expertise wouldn't shame other
ferrets, her leaps were designed to land on soft objects, such as
surgically softened abdomens, and she reserved her flying when alone.
She once flew to the top of the curtains so she could drape herself over
the drapery rod to better survey her kingdom.  Another time she flew to
the top of the china hutch, so her presence would baffle curious
onlookers.  It was at this time, Tori became a Flying Tiger, and received
many awards and much recognition for her courage and fearless deeds.
 
Tori forgave Stella's initial attempts at murder, and the two became best
friends, no doubt to better plot diabolical schemes and nefarious deeds.
When Bear was running for Alpha Male, Stella and Tori teamed up to
impeach his attempts at emperorship.  When Tui, the New Zealand Yellow
Monster, was teaching polecat tricks and the "Secret of Climbing
Bookshelves", Tori and Stella were immune to his toothy predilections for
domination because of their combined strength.  When Stella died, Tori
became my silent partner in grief; her consoling nature helped me through
the worst days.
 
Over time, when her goals in life were long achieved, Tori retired from
the active life.  Many times she could be spotted telling her stories
and humorous antidotes to fidgeting kits, playing the role of Professor
Polecat.  After her eighth winter, she retired from that role as well,
suffering from cataracts and lymphoma.  Her home moved into the living
room, so she could be spoon-fed and held and allowed to quietly
contemplate her long and active life.  She always remained dignified,
always independent, always stubborn.  She remained so, throughout her
illness, teaching that whimpering was more dignified than crying, and
being held more comfortable than sleeping.  Finally, her pain was so
great that those beautiful, quiet eyes pleaded for permission from the
one person who refused to let her go.  His heart was broke and he
relented.  She left quickly to remind him of her silent flights to the
top of the china hutch.
 
Goodbye Tori the Flying Tiger.  As promised, I will not weep; these are
tears of joy for the many times you taught me to do what is right, do
what is fun, and to do everything as passionately as possible.
 
Bob C
[Posted in FML issue 4265]