Dear Ferret Folks- Last night my Sabrina the Bat-Biter was playing in a pair of pants that I keep on the floor of the ferret's room for them to play in. My husband came into the room to play, he never even knew she was there until he stepped on her. Not with his full weight, he realized instantly what was happening and pulled back, but the damage was done. Sabrina took one heck of a thumping! Some of you out there can understand when I write of the terror we felt at that moment, and the even more terrible guilt that followed. We hurt her! She is ours and so small, and we hurt her! Disaster! We held her and felt her all over carefully, flexed every joint. Nothing we did appeared to cause her any pain, but here is the wonder- We live with these little creatures day in and day out. We share our homes and whole lives with them. We love them unconditionally. We think we know them inside and out. But when I looked in her eyes they said "You don't know me." And I didn't. I didn't know anything as basic as how much she hurt, or even where. A human baby could have told me by crying, but so often animals don't cry out. They don't always share their pain, the way they share their joy by dooking, by war-dancing. I know her mad face, her bored face, her stubborn face, but I didn't know this face. It came from a private animal part of her that she does not share with me. That animal part will always be just out of my reach, it will always be a mystery. It's a land that we've left behind forever. Human compassion compells me to extend my hand to her and say "Sabrina, how do you feel?" But Sabrina is not obliged to answer in reply. In that silence I imagined all sorts of terrible hidden damage, but the morning revealed only a stiff and sore ferret, no real harm done. I am greatful. But I will not forget that moment when her eyes said "You don't know me." Maybe I needed the reminder that she is not here on this earth just to amuse me with her anitcs, she has a natural animal dignity that I may admire from a distance, but never quite touch. Sincerely, Alexandra in Massachusetts [Posted in FML issue 3665]