Dear Ferret Folks- Every now and then my husband or I committ the cardinal sin of making a material change to our home *without* first consulting the ferrets. Oh, can you imagine? The NERVE of some folks! It's not enough that we cleeeeean the Ferret Room, just when they'd adjusted its aroma to their liking...No. We have to go and do other boneheaded things like change the bathroom door. Yes, the bathroom door. The old one met with their pointy-headed approval because it was a really cheapo 'make-do' kind of a thing. It did in fact screen the bathroom's occupants from the casual gaze of passers by, but it had a ferret-friendly feature. It stopped about two inches short of the floor. The resulting gap was more than wide enough for even the most obese, frat-brother fatty-boy of a hob to turn into a mist and slither under. Sitting on the throne in our house was a contact sport as a result. Ferrets would trot over and contact your toes, your ankles, your naked, unprotected calves. Ceaselessly. Remorselessly. Oh, sometimes you could distract them with a few feet of toilet paper, but once the initial euphoria wore off they would remember your toes, and there you were. Trapped. Is this an uncouth discussion? Why, of course it is, but I know full well that mine is not the only household in the FML family in which visitors to the Porcelain Bus (remember college? Bllleauugh! Ridin' the Porcelain Bus! Bllleauugh!) are routinely attacked by weasels. My husband's response was to pick up and restrain the offending weasel. Me, I would, after a series of small, fluttering kicks toss the weasel in the laundry basket. Well, that's all over, now. Because the NEW and IMPROVED bathroom door goes all the way to the floor. Now a trip to my bathroom features a crude form of musical accompaniment. A furious weasel lies down on the floor on the wrong side of the door and tries to scratch and shake the whole thing out of it's frame in a rage! Rattle rattle scritch scritch! Rattle rattle scritch scritch! I have only one thing to say to my ferrets regarding this change in our living arrangements, one single syllable repeated over, and over again... HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-!!!!!! Sucks to be you, weasel.. Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML issue 4586]