Dear Ferret Folks-

Todd the Butter Butt is extremely grateful to the anonymous benefactors
who have sent him yet *another* bag of Totally Ferret, complete with
treats. He really, really likes his Totally Ferret. It was so kind of
you, anonymous benefactor! Thank you.

Alexandra in MA

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Todd likes his kibble. He likes his butter. But what good is butter
without bread? I have a lovely home bread baking machine that I bring
out when the cold weather begins. It fills the house with that warm,
delicious smell of baking bread. My husband, though, still likes his
store-bought sliced bread for quick sandwiches. There is usually a
plastic sleeve of it up on one end of my island kitchen. That's where
we have kept it for years.

Then we got Todd.

One morning I was typing on the computer and I heard this funny
"swiisssshhhh..." noise coming toward me. It was a slow, dragging
noise. Indeed, it was Todd with the neck of a loaf of my husband's
sandwich bread in his mouth, the weight of the loaf dragging behind
him and making that distinctive swishing-dragging sound of plastic
against my hardwood floors. When the loaf is full I hear that sound
moving through the house at a slow, stately pace. When there are only
a few slices left, maybe just the heels put aside for the chickens,
it moves *much* faster.

When either my husband or I hear that sound now one of us yells
"Bread!" That is the call to go take the loaf away from Todd before he
tries to stash it in the little tunnel of space behind the cushions on
the yellow sofa, the one that has always attracted the attention of
ferrets. The yellow sofa serves as our guest bed, and was given to
me by my grandmother. My grandmother was a very proper Philadelphia
Main-Line matron with blue rinsed George Washington hair, and I wonder
what she would have made of weasels sleeping in her sofa. But they do.

Todd particularly likes to drag a loaf into that tunnel behind the
big yellow seat cushions, climb into the bag and take a nap, his face
resting on the soft, fluffy slices of bread. I, reasonably, do not want
my ferret sleeping in a plastic bag. Todd disagrees. My husband, for
his part, reasonably does not want to make himself a sandwich from used
weasel bedding.

As a result, there is now an epic power struggle inside my home. Todd
wants one thing. My husband and I both want another, for different
reasons. My husband will call out to me plaintively "Where is the
bread *this* time*?"

"I think it's on top of the microwave where Todd can't get it."

"I don't see it!"

"Did you look on top of the dryer?"

"It's not there!"

"Did you look on top of the writing desk in the computer room?"

"It's not there!"

"Try looking on top of the refrigerator."

"Well where were you the last time you took it away from him?"

"I don't remember. I've done it twice today, anyway. Try looking in the
sofa."

"Oh, *maaaan*! Not again!"

"Well, you can't leave it up on the island anymore. You know he takes
it!"

"I'm *huuuungry!"

"So go look in the sofa."

I'm wondering if my husband is going to get a hair ball in his stomach
from eating so much ferret fur. I'm going to have to get a tube of
Red-Neck Lax for him to lick every day to prevent any blockages. I'm
thinking Red-Neck Lax tastes like Beer. I think I will suggest it to
my husband the next time he leaves the bread where Todd can get it.

A-

[Posted in FML 6127]