Dear Ferret Folks-
I have never. Ever. Seen such an epic tantrum as I did this evening.
Little Switch the Kit is obviously not a sweet child anymore, she has
become a teenager. If she could have yelled "I hate you!" and slammed
her door she would have.
Tonight my husband decided to build a set of shelves in the room where we
keep the ferret cage. He brought in lengths of wonderful smelling pine
wood and a handfull of shiny metal nails, none of which Switch could swarm
over, lick, or drag under the furniture. She could see the intriguing new
things brought into her territory, but only from a distance. A hammer.
Little bags of bright, sharp screws. So near, yet so far. The aromatic
sawdust flew. And Swich lost her tiny mind. She decided that no cage
could hold her.
She tried with all her might to jam her pointy little head through her
cage bars. She pushed and pushed until her lips were streched so far back
that I could see her fangs. No go. Her skull would simply not cooperate.
That just made her MAD at the cage. So she bit it.
She chewed the bars savagely. Nope. She was still a prisoner. She
grabbed the bars in her little white mitts and shook them. No good. She
stood in the food bowl and shook the bars there. Nope. she ran to the
first floor litterbox, stood in that, and shook the bars there. Nope.
She ran to the second floor, shook the bars there. Still no go. She
became very quiet, then.
She simply stood still on all fours and glowered, her little forhead
furrowed in consternation. Then she jumped up and down in place about
ten times, and flew to the top of the cage. I'm not really sure how she
did it, maybe it's related to the way cats always manage to fall feet
first. She fell UP feet first, grabbed a bar in each of four paws and,
upsidedown, shook the bars furiously. Still finding no satisfaction, she
bit the bars while continuing to shake them with all four paws. Finally,
she relaxed all of her paws and hung from the bars by her teeth ,whiskers
quivering in impotent fury. She hung there, swinging, for a full five
seconds before dropping to the floor in defeat.
Having no other recourse, she elected to make one last statement of
protest, just in case we hadn't gotten the picture yet. Having no door
to slam, she pooped smack in the middle of the floor and threw herself
face first into her hammock, where she spent the rest of the evening
She'll forgive us in a few years. Maybe.
Alexandra in Massachusetts
P.S. The shelves look great.
[Posted in FML issue 3661]