Dear Ferret Folks-
It was meant to be.
 
I thought that my days of being owned by weasels were over, but no.  Time
took it's toll on my furry little tribe.  They dwindled from three, to
two, to one.  Maya the Moose went outside to play in the grass one day,
and never came home.  Don't (that was her name, the best ferret I ever
knew) was cruelly slain by a dog in our own home.  Only Zen's Sabrina
remained, and then I became ill.  I could barely care for myself, much
less attend to the demands of weaseldom.
 
I thought it best that I give Sabrina (known as Sabrina the Bat-Biter
for the time she killed and partially ingested a small brown bat that
foolishly flow into the house) away to a better home.  I packed up the
cage, the dishes, the water bottles, washed and folded all the little
blankies and quilt-bags.  I sent her to live with a friend, and I only
cried a little bit.
 
Time passed.  I got better slowly, very slowly.  My friend's life started
spinning faster and faster.  Parties and more parties and nights out, she
didn't have time for Sabrina anymore.  Would I take her back and give her
a home again after so long?  Reluctantly, I said yes.
 
Back came the cage, the dishes, the water bottles, etc. and back came
Sabrina the Bat-Biter.  Sabrina was always a distant, difficult weasel.
She did not cuddle, rarely played.  She had two primary emotions-disdain
or indifference.  The long time spent as a single ferret after a lifetime
of being a tribe-member had not improved her.  Her vision had turned
inward.  She mostly slept.  Her once lusterous coat had gone thin and
dull.  She bit.  We regarded one another warily through the cage bars.
All we had in common were the memories of a happier time, a vanished
tribe.  The ghosts of Maya and Don't haunted us both.
 
I took a wild chance.  If I was going to do all the work necessary for the
maintanence of a ferret, dammit, I was going to get a ferret that loved
life the way Maya and Don't did.  There was going to be dooking in my
house again.  Potatos would be stashed under the furniture once more.  I
did something I had never done before.  I actually BOUGHT a ferret for
the first time instead of adopting another.  Not only was she a pet-store
ferret, she was a kit, something I had never experienced.  A rompin'
stompin' non-stop kit we named Switch, as she has just two speeds-off, or
Oh-my-God ON ON ON ON ON!
 
I figured that Sabrina would hate her, she seemed to hate everything else.
I anticipated fights and bites and dark resentments.  Malice in the cage,
overturned food dishes and shrieks of rage.
 
Nope.  Sabrina, who had done nothing more dynamic than eat and poop in
months ran- actually ran up to Switch, threw her onto her side and began
to groom her fur.  I was stunned.
 
Now I have a tribe once more, and there is dooking in my house.  They
sleep in a pile.  Sabrina has shown the little one the finer points of
making that outrageous face while licking weasel grease from the spoon.
How to drag potatos, and play in a two-handled plastic bag.  Switch leaps
onto Sabrina's back, wraps her arms around her neck and chews her head
while Sabrina drags her along the floor, slowly.  Patiently, never
complaining or biting.  Sabrina's fur is shiny and thick once more, and
she is a whole new weasel, or maybe I should say she has the spirit of
two old weasles that I thought I'd never see again.  Maya and Don't and
Sabrina all seem to be the same weasel now, and Switch has three aunts in
one.
 
It was meant to be.
 
Sincerely,
Alexandra in Mass.
[Posted in FML issue 3649]