It was a *beautiful* night in central Massachusetts.  After weeks of
rain, a few dry days to enjoy summer.  The nights, though, were a special
delight.  The air cooled and softened into dusk.  A thin mist came up
from the surface of the lake, and the orange half moon was mirroroed,
rippling, in the water.  The loon called a few times, and the birds all
went to sleep.  The fireflies came out and started flashing in the long
grass.  Swift, angular bats came out from their daytime places, and
swooped through the air, searching for mosquitos.  The air smelled of
pine, and garden lillies, and all the secret things that make up a
summer night.
 
It was a perfect night to take a tractor out flying.
 
Ping and Puma waited until their hoomins left together in the car, then
quickly hopped up and over the plexiglass barrier in the Ferret Room
doorway.  As if *that* were a real obstacle!  Well, it was to France,
the Fricken' Pigmy hedgehog who commenced to stand up against the
barrier, scratch frantically, and wail forlornly "You 'ave to take mee!
Take me wit' you, you <contenet deleted due to obscenenities> ferretsss!"
 
Then she was silent.  Ping and Puma were both halfway down the stairs.
They stopped and stood, listening.  Finally, it came.  "PLEEEASE!"
 
"Do we go get her, Dude?" asked Ping.  "She's always a pain under my
tail."
 
Again, faintly from behind the plexiglass "Pleeease!"
 
Puma squeezed her eyes shut as if in momentary pain.  She sighed deeply
and said "Don't call me Dude, Ping.  We've been over this."
 
Ping rolled his eyes and muttered "What-ever.  Do we bring her, though?
She sounds really pathetic."
 
"I may regret this, but yeah, we bring her."said Puma.
 
With that, they whirled as one and galloped back up the stairs, and down
the hall to the Ferret Room door.  France was standing up against it on
her tiny bowed back legs, her little pink wet nose and clawed front pads
pressed up against the plastic, making smeary marks on it.  Her black
eyes were very shiny.  There was a question in them.
 
"Yeah, Dude, we'll bring you.  I'll hold up the plastic, and you wiggle
out under it" said Ping.
 
"And you'll need to hurry,"said Puma.  "He can't hold it up for very
long."
 
France nodded silently from her side of the glass and tool a step back,
dropping to all fours.
 
"Are you going to be an *sshole like you usually are?" inquired Ping..
 
At this, France puffed up like a little pin cushion and began to hiss,
quietly.
 
"Just get the plastic, Ping.  Don't get her going" said Puma.
 
Ping sighed deeply, and walked up to the plexiglass sheet.  He put his
front paw pads against the sheet and stood up aginst it.  With a grunt,
he took another step forward, and the plexiglass lifted very gently, half
an inch.  He re-positioned his paw pads quickly, grunted again, and took
another step forward, the muscles in his back beginning to strain.  Two
and a half inches.  Another quick reposition, three and a half inches,
and now his back was beginning to quiver.
 
"Now, France!" said Puma.
 
First, the little snout with whiskers poked out from beneath the bottom
of the plexiglass.  It was quickly followed by the tiny ears and black
eyes.  France's salt and pepper quills squeezed under the plastic like a
wet watermelon seed, and she popped out from beneath it seemingly all at
once.  Hedgehogs don't really have necks.  It's just head, then body.
Oh, yes, and the saddest little naked pink tail on the face of the earth.
Ping only laughed at it once, long ago.  He wore the fang marks in his
leg for days.
 
Puma said "Drop it now, Ping." With that he pulled his front paws away,
and dropped back down to all fours.  The plexiglass sheet came down with
a BANG!  France took one step forward, reached up and BIT Ping's ear.  He
howled, and thrashed his head back and forth until the little hedgehog
let go.
 
"What did you do that for?  I let you out!"
 
France glared at him and said primly "I am not a 'holllle...I am a lady."
Then, without a backward glance, she marched past him toward the stairs.
 
It was everything Puma could do not burst out into hysterical laughter.
She said "She's not a 'holllle, she's a lady."  Then, snarfing under her
breath she, too, turned and headed for the stairs.
 
Ping stood alone before the plexiglass barrier and muttered darkly
"Whatever."
 
End Part One
 
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 5294]