Very excellent post, Ingrid. It's the post I wish I had written, but
instead - *sigh* - I took a whole five minutes and simply vented. I
usually try very hard to concentrate on the positive, but this time
it was difficult. Alex is my friend, and instead of reacting with
compassion and diplomacy, I did what most guys do and used a "bigger
hammer." For that I am somewhat sorry (hey, you can't expect me to eat
the whole crow). But I am sorrier that I didn't use my electrons to
talk about something that's essentially more important. Ingrid did this
with grace and intelligence. It's a good thing I'm not a carpenter,
because I am not good with a hammer. I now understand why Jesus gave
up carpentry.

Now that I've eaten half a crow, I will try to put into words what I've
been tossing about in my head since Ping Is He took his last chomp.

There's a blurred line between being safe and being free. If one is
totally safe (if one *can* be totally safe), then one cannot be totally
free. There is no getting around, over, or under it. We are forced to
dance around that blurred line if we are to have any sort of life at
all.

When our children are three we do not let them cross the street by
themselves. We teach them to hold our hands, look for cars, and wait
for the light. But there comes a day when our children have to grow
up and cross the street by themselves. We can only hope that by that
time we've taught our children how do this in relative safety.

But why do we teach our children to cross the street at all? It's
because we want them to be free, as well as safe. We want them to
explore the world, and one cannot do this without crossing some
streets. So we let them go and hope that they discover the world
without becoming hood ornaments. Never is there any guarantee that
they will be either free *or* safe.

So, in our struggle to be good parents (and good ferret keepers), how
do we discern that blurred line between safety and freedom? Well, in
all reality, the sad truth is that we can't. We can only take our best
guess. The more we try to pinpoint the line, the thinner it becomes,
until it becomes a razor on which we can cut ourselves. So on which
side of that line do we stay? I have my own answer -- and I learned it
from the fearless Ping Is He.

Anybody who's ever kept a ferret knows that they are fearless beyond a
doubt. It's just characteristic of their nature and one that, as a mere
human, I admire. Matt Claus recently did a great post titled "What I
Learned From Ferrets." Matt, you're brilliant. It's all right there:

>Lesson #10. Don't complain about the cards you're dealt, just play
>the hand -- emphasis on "play."

>Lesson #6. You don't always have to worry about the consequences.

And last, but certainly not least...

>Lesson #5. NEVER back down, even if your opponent is ten times your
>size (or a hundred).

If these lessons aren't the epitome of Ping Is He (and a million
other ferrets), then I don't know what is. When I read these lessons
initially they were cute and touching, just something to read - but
after re-reading them they took on a completely new, more serious
meaning; one I have trouble getting out of my head.

No matter what side of that blurred line between safety and freedom
we choose, we will always be in some form of error. Ping erred on the
freedom side of that blurred line by taking that last chomp. Was he
just a foolhardy, dumb animal whose humans should have protected from
such errors in judgment? Who's to say? Well...apparently many of you.
But no one can argue that he was any less than courageous in his
pursuit of one of the few things a ferret lives for -- the joy of play.
In the end, for all practical purposes, it was Ping's say. We should
all be so simple and courageous with our own choices in this life.

I am coming out of a failed life, myself. I stayed on what I thought
was the safe side of that line, and yet it did not save me. A good
friend of mine recently encouraged me to cross that line and push the
reset button. But I will never cross that line if I keep complaining
about the hand I was dealt, or if I worry about all the consequences,
or if I back down because my opponent (my own ego) is a hundred times
my size. All I have to do is have the courage of a ferret and push that
button. It will not be easy, being only human, but I will do my best.

One day I will take my final chomp (hopefully on a good steak). And
while I'm on my way to the Bridge to pick up my own fuzzies, I will
stop and give Ping Is He a pat on the head for this lesson he has
taught me. Hopefully he won't give me a chomp, but if he does I will
not let him down. I will look him in his mischievous eyes, give him
a wry smile, and gently bite him back out of respect.

Roary
somewhere around 35.199551 N ~ 106.644249 W

[Posted in FML 6087]