Dear Ferret Folks- Why? Why does literally, the same old *hit become the most interesting thing in THE WHOLE WORLD to Ping is He when it's time for me to clean it up? The stuff he's ignored in the corner on it's newspaper since last trash day? As soon as I take down the plexiglass door barrier on trash day, the ONLY place he wants to be is IN the ferret room, even if five minutes before he was lying on the floor in there, trying to look as if he was dying from some wasting disease related to acute boredom.. Puma, now, she has a brain in her head. I take down the barrier and she's gone. Vamoosed. She's got things to do, places to be. Sofas to chew. Things to stash. Not Ping. He wants to be with Mommy, and the broom she can't sweep him out of the room with. And the big crinkly Hefty bag she doesn't want him in. And the new, crisp newspaper she doesn't want him to unfold. I bring all the tubes into the kitchen. He runs through each and every one as if he's never seen them before. "Tubes! I love tubes! Tubes in the Kitchen!" Bonehead. Ping, your're a bonehead. While he runs through "Tubes in the kitchen!" I quickly try to sweep up piles of spilled rice and potting soil. But I'm not fast enough, no, never fast enough. I hear him coming, galloping! He *dives* into the nearest pile, little front paws pressed together like Bugs Bunny diving into his hole. POOF! Black dust and rice everywhere. I stand there at the epicenter, and fume. I now have dirt and rice between my toes. Joy. Just add water, and my feet can become a private rice paddy. I'll feed the third world. As always, I consider just dropping the plexiglass barrier back into place and putting Ping on the OTHER side of it while I clean, but then I'll have to step over it twenty times to get stuff, an uncomfortable and off-balancing exercise. If I were built like a stork it wouldn't be a problem. (sigh.) This is going to suck. Now it's time to roll up all the soiled newspaper. I have to fight Ping for it, of course. "Hey, is that one of mine or Puma's? (sniff sniff sniff)" Who CARES, you filthy little beast? It's Mr. Hefty's now! Get out! Get out! Get out of that bag! Now it's time to gather up all the toys and put them in their bucket so I can finish sweeping. "Hey! We have toys?" Ping, you're a bonehead. Give me-give me-GIVE ME THE CROCHED EGG!!! Don't you hiss at me, Mister! Now it's time to swap the dirty blankies in the Dark Sleeping Box for clean ones. Guess who wants to be INSIDE the box now? Nighty-night, bonehead. Oh, changed our mind, I see. He's baaaa-aaacckk.....Now it's time to lay down fresh paper. Yup. You're an idiot. Burrow under it and see if there is anything under there besides floor. Very important to do that. I might have, like hidden a Studabaker under there. I'm sneaky like that. OK. The tubes are all coming back from the kitchen...long tubes, short tubes, straight tubes, curved tubes, aluminum ones, PVC, cardboard. "Tubes! Tubes in my room!" Yeah, check 'em out, Ping. See if they've changed in the last twenty minutes. All right, I'm all done now, I'm dropping the plexiglass barrier back into place. And what do I see? Ping is He, lying on the floor of the Ferret Room, looking as if he is dying from some disease caused by acute boredom. Bonehead. Gotta go catch Puma. Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML issue 4979]