Ten years ago a friend ordered a birthday cake for me that was topped off by a 6"-long plastic reclining man. This mini-man wore nothing but a painted-on red bikini. My first ferret, Nancy Reagan (so named because she had her pointy little nose in everything), stole Bikini-Boy off the cake at her first opportunity and spent years hauling him from hiding place to hiding place. Subsequent ferrets were allowed nowhere near him. After Nancy passed to the Bridge, Bikini-Boy was taken over by Blanche du Bois, my little albino gal, who was even more ferociously protective of him. Every once in awhile another ferret would discover Bikini-Boy's latest hidey-hole and attempt to carry him off, only to be tackled by a tiny hissing white tornado. I've moved three times since Bikini-Boy entered our lives, and each time he's been the last object found after the furniture's been carted away and the first installed in the new place. Blanche has become much more docile in her old age, but she still nestles up to Bikini-Boy behind the entertainment center and the other ferrets no longer try to steal him from her. His bikini's mostly worn away from being carted around by his derriere and his face doesn't look quite so handsome anymore, but what he's lost in the way of clothing and good looks is more than compensated by the love and devotion he's inspired in two female ferrets' hearts. Signe [Posted in FML issue 3178]