I thought I could never be embarrassed again after the time the ferret
babies stole my tampons and brought them out into the loungeroom for a bout
of world class wrestling when my husband had all his friends around.  I was
wrong.
 
Mille, my tiny hyperferret, loves to play in my hair.  I tip my head upside
down so that my hair hangs on the carpet, and Millie burrows to her heart's
content, trying to grab my hair and dooking with mock surprise when it slips
through her little paws or through her teeth.
 
Yesterday afternoon we were having a great game of hair snorkelling...that
is, until Millie decided to start wardancing!  As I screamed with laughter
and not a little pain, she bounced around and around inside my tangled mass
of hair, dooking and hissing, rolling and falling over with glee.  Then she
realised she was stuck, which only caused her to wardance and struggle all
the more.  I decided to call an end to the game before baldness set in,
but...hmmm ...easier said than done.  This little girl really WAS stuck.
 
Those of you with long hair will be familiar with the difficulties
encountered when trying to free a thoroughly entangled, highly excited
ferret from your long, knotted tresses.  Given that the whole sorry mess was
attached to the top of my head, I couldn't see clearly enough to do anything
effective about it!  I clearly needed a helping hand - Jarrod - who was out
the front, playing with the remote control car I bought him for his birthday
(He's 29 years old and still showing no signs of growing up!  ).
 
So picture this: me, walking out the front door and down the driveway,
desperately praying that none of my neighbours choose this moment to look
out their windows.  Me, trying to attract Jarrod's attention without
attracting the attention of the group of neighbourhood kids who always
gather to watch when he takes his car out.
 
Me, standing forlornly on the footpath, with a wildly excited weasel
suspended from my head.
 
I needed no words to explain my dilemma when Jarrod finally came over to
rescue me.  His knowing eyes assessed the situation - the hysterical ferret,
the nearly hysterical wife...he gently and wordlessly untangled Millie, and
gravely handed her back to me.  I ignored the hint of a smirk about the
corner of his mouth, and with a frigid glare at the sniggering neighbourhood
kids, stalked back up the driveway and into the sanctuary of my house.
 
There are 2 lessons, I think, to be learnt here: Firstly, hair snorkelling
is a perilous past-time; and secondly, if you want to stand out in a crowd,
trying wearing a weasel in your hair!
 
Cheers and Merry Christmas to all!
 
Sophie, Millie hyperweasel, and Sinbad (Weaselus Maximus).
[Posted in FML issue 1787]