Dear Ferret Folks-
 
Sabrina the Blind Bat-Biter always lets you know when she is not amused,
and she most definitely was not amused by my poor household management
skills tonight.  My faux pas?  I allowed the dog's food bowl to become
empty.  This is not at all acceptable to a certain crotchety old weasel
who is set in her ways.  Even in her youth, Sabrina never appreciated any
change that she did not initiate herself.  An empty food bowl is an
unwelcome change from her set routine.
 
The very first thing the old girl does when allowed free range of the
house is make a beeline for the bowl.  Does it matter to her how the DOG
feels about this?  Hell, no.  The dog outweighs her forty-five to one,
but wisely tolerates this nightly outrage against her territory.  Mind
you, if the dog somehow managed to access the ferret stash between the arm
of the living room sofa and wall, and, say, gnawed one one of Sabrina's
beloved million year old rice cakes there would be hell to pay, I'm sure.
The fur would fly.  But when Sabrina hangs out of the dog's dish and
grazes she does so with no consideration given to her personal safety.
She knows she is the reigning four-legged champion of this household,
paws down.
 
The poor dog.  She watches sadly from across the room as the nasty old
weasel bodily crawls into her bowl and removes one dry little brown chow
at a time, and creeps under the kitchen counter to eat it slowly, then
makes a return trip for the next one.  Sabrina takes her time, the dog's
agony is seemingly endless.  It's not just that she fears Sabrina, she
knows that the hoomins will not allow her to, say, EAT Sabrina, no matter
how terrible the provocation.
 
But last night Sabrina climbed into the bowl, only to find herself alone
in there, there was not even one chow.  Not one.  I am behind on my
shopping.  No more dog chow until tomorrew.  The dog can eat human chow
until them.  It's not like we are out of FERRET chow, mind you.  There is
plenty of that in their cage, but Sabrina was still outraged.  She wasted
no time once she realized the situation.  She marched straight into the
kitchen closet looking for the big paper bag full of the dog's chow only
to realize that it, too, was gone.  Emptied.  So she absolutely trashed
everything she could reach in the bottom of that closet, the returnable
bottles made a heck of a racket as she overturned them one by one.  I
could hear her scratching at the side of the plastic trash can.
 
All is still in the household, now.  The dog is asleep.  The husband is
asleep.  Switch the Kit is curled up in my bag of afghan yarn.  Soon I
have to make the trip down the dimly lit hall to my bedroom.  I just hope
a certain thwarted old carpet shark lets me make it there in one piece.
She was NOT amused, and still has all of her teeth.
 
Alexandra in Massachusetts, tiptoeing.
[Posted in FML issue 3825]