The following is a story which first appeared in the Independent Voice in 1994. Since people are writing about their first ferret experience, thought I would post this because it was already written! I will try to find time to up-date on the Millennium ferret baby-things tomorrow. Our adventure into the world of ferrets started when my daughter, then in grade school, decided she needed a fluffy little animal to love. She had never really known our cats because she was quite young when the last one passed away and was not replaced due to allergies. On calling several pet stores to investigate into small animals for pets, the word "ferret" kept coming up. I supposed at the time that they were captured animals from chicken coops and such. Nevertheless, off we went to our local pet store to investigate this animal called a ferret. Big mistake. Never go to a pet store with your child and your checkbook at the same time. The ferrets shown to us looked kind of weird to me. My daughter Amanda promptly fell in love with the scrawniest looking one, who also was obviously a little older than the others. "How about one of these others?" I hopefully asked. "At least they have fur." No, the scrawny, rough-coated one who at that moment was biting a hole in my finger was the one for her. "She is on sale for half price," said the smart salesperson. "Sale," I said, immediately becoming alert. Well, without going into all the details, we left the pet shop sometime later with a ton of equipment and a funny looking animal. Arriving home, we set her on the floor to show her off to my husband. That was the last we saw of her for some hours. "Maybe you should have bought a net along with the other stuff," my husband commented. "She's got to get tired sometime," I offered hopefully. "That's when we'll grab her." Secretly I was relieved. She must be healthy, despite her looks, or else she would not have so much energy. Finally, of course, she was captured and popped into her new cage (not on sale) and given food, etc. (also not on sale). While she ate, I sat down to read the book (also not on sale) I had purchased about ferrets. "Oh, no," I exclaimed after carefully comparing pictures of rather cute animals with our new pet. "I think we have purchased a rat!" The following day I took her to the local vet for shots and a check-up. Although he did not specifically handle ferrets (there were not too many ferret specialists around in those days), he agreed to see her. "What do you think she is?" I asked. Looking at me a little oddly, he said, "she's a ferret." I was relieved. He administered the vaccine, and Frisky (named because of her energy level) bolted over his shoulder and hit the floor running. She ran through the open door toward the back of the clinic, with the vet in hot pursuit. "Do you want me to help?" I called. He didn't hear me. There was a crash and someone screamed, "Watch out, a rat is loose!" I heard a commotion in the waiting room and looked in time to see Frisky racing through. Two dogs attacked each other. A cat clawed its owner. I sat on the floor and whistled. Surprisingly, she jumped into my lap and promptly climbed on the top of my head. When we went to pay our bill, the receptionist suggested that we find another vet to care for this "disruptive animal." Why don't you buy a net?" I haughtily suggested. When we got to the car, I looked at Frisky and started to laugh. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. "You're my kind of pet," I told her, and thus began our ferret odyssey. When Frisky was about three months old, I came in from work and took a good look at her. "She is lonely," I proclaimed. "We need another ferret to keep her company." So, off to the pet store we went again. This time, I told my daughter that I got to choose the ferret. I chose a large male kit with a huge head, body like a triangle, and silky coat. Promptly dubbed "Whiskey" by my daughter, we took him home and introduced him to Frisky. She sniffed him all over, licked him from stem to stern, and they started to play. By the time Whiskey joined our family, Frisky had become quite a kick. She had a human toe fetish, with exception of my daughter's toes. In fact, she hissed every time she saw those ominous toes. Amanda had reflex-kicked Frisky after a good chomp, and Frisky never forgot. She loved to steal socks and chew on sweaters, making a squeaky noise while doing so. Her favorite sweater, one of my husband's, we left partially hanging out of the drawer. She would grasp it with her teeth, let her body swing loose, close her eyes in bliss, and make her scrunchy-sounding "music" as she chewed. By this time, Frisky and Whisky knew their names, came when called, and were endlessly ready for fun and games. Soon we could not imagine our lives without ferrets. (Whiskey was lost during routine surgery from the anesthesia - very dangerous to ferrets many years ago. Frisky lived to be very old indeed as did my other "first ferrets" which were Marshall Farms. Life expectancy was easy 8 to 12 years. Little did I know back then that ferrets would become my main love in life. Frisky never did have much of a coat, but every year she came into a glorious tail! Lush and thick it was quite a contrast to her normal short coat). Cheers, Meg [Posted in FML issue 2922]