Dear Ferret Folks-
 
Why?  Why does literally, the same old *hit become the most interesting
thing in THE WHOLE WORLD to Ping is He when it's time for me to clean it
up?  The stuff he's ignored in the corner on it's newspaper since last
trash day?  As soon as I take down the plexiglass door barrier on trash
day, the ONLY place he wants to be is IN the ferret room, even if five
minutes before he was lying on the floor in there, trying to look as if
he was dying from some wasting disease related to acute boredom..
 
Puma, now, she has a brain in her head.  I take down the barrier and
she's gone.  Vamoosed.  She's got things to do, places to be.  Sofas to
chew.  Things to stash.  Not Ping.  He wants to be with Mommy, and the
broom she can't sweep him out of the room with.  And the big crinkly
Hefty bag she doesn't want him in.  And the new, crisp newspaper she
doesn't want him to unfold.  I bring all the tubes into the kitchen.
He runs through each and every one as if he's never seen them before.
"Tubes!  I love tubes!  Tubes in the Kitchen!" Bonehead.  Ping, your're
a bonehead.
 
While he runs through "Tubes in the kitchen!" I quickly try to sweep up
piles of spilled rice and potting soil.  But I'm not fast enough, no,
never fast enough.  I hear him coming, galloping!  He *dives* into the
nearest pile, little front paws pressed together like Bugs Bunny diving
into his hole.  POOF!  Black dust and rice everywhere.  I stand there at
the epicenter, and fume.  I now have dirt and rice between my toes.  Joy.
Just add water, and my feet can become a private rice paddy.  I'll feed
the third world.
 
As always, I consider just dropping the plexiglass barrier back into
place and putting Ping on the OTHER side of it while I clean, but then
I'll have to step over it twenty times to get stuff, an uncomfortable
and off-balancing exercise.  If I were built like a stork it wouldn't be
a problem.  (sigh.) This is going to suck.
 
Now it's time to roll up all the soiled newspaper.  I have to fight Ping
for it, of course.  "Hey, is that one of mine or Puma's?  (sniff sniff
sniff)" Who CARES, you filthy little beast?  It's Mr. Hefty's now!  Get
out!  Get out!  Get out of that bag!  Now it's time to gather up all the
toys and put them in their bucket so I can finish sweeping.  "Hey!  We
have toys?" Ping, you're a bonehead.  Give me-give me-GIVE ME THE CROCHED
EGG!!!  Don't you hiss at me, Mister!  Now it's time to swap the dirty
blankies in the Dark Sleeping Box for clean ones.  Guess who wants to be
INSIDE the box now?  Nighty-night, bonehead.  Oh, changed our mind, I
see.  He's baaaa-aaacckk.....Now it's time to lay down fresh paper.  Yup.
You're an idiot.  Burrow under it and see if there is anything under
there besides floor.  Very important to do that.  I might have, like
hidden a Studabaker under there.  I'm sneaky like that.
 
OK.  The tubes are all coming back from the kitchen...long tubes, short
tubes, straight tubes, curved tubes, aluminum ones, PVC, cardboard.
"Tubes!  Tubes in my room!" Yeah, check 'em out, Ping.  See if they've
changed in the last twenty minutes.  All right, I'm all done now, I'm
dropping the plexiglass barrier back into place.  And what do I see?
Ping is He, lying on the floor of the Ferret Room, looking as if he is
dying from some disease caused by acute boredom.
 
Bonehead.
 
Gotta go catch Puma.
 
Alexandra in MA
[Posted in FML issue 4979]