I've been subscribed to this list for slightly less than a year now, and
during that period it's been claimed time and again that ferret owners are
somehow special people.  An equal number of times -- I must admit -- I've
dismissed such musings as self-congratulatory pats on the back.  What's so
special about falling for the little guys?  How could anyone *not* find them
irresistible?  Disliking a ferret is impossible.  For me it was love at
second sight.
 
Three years ago a new neighbor complained that her door wasn't working
properly, and being the gallant fellow that I am (and yes, she was
terminally cute) I volunteered to help.  I was on my knees with tools and
doorknob parts scattered around me, quietly cursing, when I felt something
cold and wet poking at my leg.  Looking down, there was a slinky little
critter looking back up at me, absolutely unafraid.  It gave my leg one more
sniff, carefully clamped onto a screwdriver, and padded off under the bed
with its booty in tow.  My attempt to retrieve the needed tool was met with
a hissing noise that successfully scared me away.
 
"Uh, Kristen?  Um ... something in your room just stole my screwdriver."
 
"Oh, that's only Floyd," she said matter-of-factly, and disappeared under
the bed.  Despite an awful racket, she reemerged with both the screwdriver
and the strange critter in her hands.  (At the time I thought her actions
were quite heroic.) Instead of offering the screwdriver, she handed me the
critter, and started in on ferrets.  Well, that was it for me.  She lent me
her ferret literature, and the rest, as they say, is history.  I hope I'm
never ferret-less again for as long as I live -- simple as that.
 
It's saddened me to learn that not everyone has the same enthusiasm for the
little buggers as we do.  In fact, of the two or three dozen people I've
introduced only one has taken the mustelid plunge.  Most are merely
indifferent, but some have actually reacted with revulsion.
 
OK, so ferrets sometimes smell a tad ripe, and sometimes they're a downright
pain in the tush.  They get fleas and mites and adrenal tumors and ulcers
and blockages and a frighteningly long list of other maladies.  They're
militantly opposed to any form of order or neatness.  No ferret-inhabited
home is without their mark.  They're masters of entropy.  Still, they're
worth every damn inconvenience and sacrifice and then some.
 
I'd never believed myself "special" for feeling this way about them.
 
If I sound defensive, it's because an old friend recently revealed to me
that she'd deemed my guys terrible animals and worse pets from day one,
which caught me a little off-guard.  It was a particularly disheartening
moment.  Until then, I'd considered her judgment quite sound.  I should
probably be "taking it out" on her instead of you all, but then, she just
wouldn't understand any of this, would she?
 
Maybe we *are* special after all.
 
Swampp
[Posted in FML issue 1400]