About 6 years ago, i brought home a little fuzz ball. It was a black eyed white with a thick black stripe down its back and extending into its tail. It was a rather old fert in with a bunch of babies. He had been in kept in a pig trough for 5 or 6 other groups of babies that had come and gone for months. No one wanted him. So he came home with me. Little is a nick name for little pooper, little stinker, or little john. He was never really little in comparison to the size of the other ferrets in the store or that I already had at home. Little vexed me greatly. I could not litter box train him. I would work faithfully in the correct manner: placing him in the box, or scruffing and yelling no, and then making him go in his time out cage. Little got to the point that he would move his lips as I held him up to my face to yell at him. My lips moved--his lips moved. He is adorable. He came with the others when I called, and could sit, roll over, and beg just like the others could. Smart, sassy, playfull--but dumb when it came to the litter box. One day, I took him to the woods with me to feed the deer. My friend Rick let Little wander a little too close to a dense thicket, and I asked him to catch the pooper before he got away.. Rick made a grab, and Little wurled around. He had all his fur fluffed so that he looked about 3 times his normal size, and let out a noise that sounded like a mountain lion. God strike me dead if I am exagerrating. People from across the field came running. Little barred his teeth and hissed as I crouched towards him. I knew he was going to tear me apart--or die in the woods. I pulled my sleeve down over my hand and spoke softly, moving slowly towards him. I grabbed him -bracing for the pain of his teeth slashing me. I found instead a tiny puffed up animal shaking like a leaf and whimpering. He shook for a very long time. My heart was really hurting me. I felt nauseous. I just started sobbing in release of the strong emotions brought forth by this horrible experience. It took me all the rest of the day to understand. Chewy was deaf. He never heard Rick coming for him in the strange forest on his first trip in the woods. He reacted out of terror. No wonder I could not litter box train him outside of the cage. He never heard me yell. It took me 3 years to discover my baby was deaf. Meet Little-the deaf black eyed white ferret Meet Lisette-the brown eyed dumbo. Together, we are deaf and dumb. [Posted in FML issue 2999]