Dear Ferret Folks- This afternoon I held my little Lily the Forever Weasel in my arms, while we both sat on the floor in one of those thin, pale, winter sunbeams. The sun wanted to warm the world today, she tried her golden best, but the ground and all the trees here are buried beneath countless tons of snow and the black December nights are so long... Still, we had our own sunbeam and that was something to be grateful for. Lily enjoyed the moment as much as I did. She half closed her dark, shining eyes and thought far away weasel thoughts. I stroked her whiskers and that dark line that runs down her belly, and I promise you, she was not thinking about shelter controversies or who might have said what to whom. One of her back feet with all of those marvelously intricate little pink toes twitched in her reverie. Was she dreaming about a war dance, or an especially satisfying rush through a dark tube? Feeling the sides of the tube brush against her whiskers as she ran? I promise you, she was not thinking about shelter controversies or who might have said what to whom. She might have been thinking about pouncing on a raisin, or standing to lick a bit of sticky, rich, ferret-vite from a spoon. She might have been thinking about ramming Switch the Kit in the ribs with her head, and sending them both sprawling into that dark place beneath the kitchen table for a session of open-mouthed wrestling, complete with hissing sound effects. But I promise you, she was not burdening her fuzzy little Karma with thoughts about shelter controversies or who might have said what to whom. And perhaps, just perhaps, we would do well to follow her example. Alexandra in Massachusetts Switch the Kit :"Well, what do the hoomins need all of this Prozac for? Can't they stomach raisins?" Hurricane Lily :" (Sighing mightily) Heeeeeeeee..." [Posted in FML issue 4012]