I am sitting at my computer. It is late, as usual, and my mind is wandering. I have made myself a pot of tea and a sandwich for my late-night nourishment. I have been reading all the hoopla about ferret shows and breeder ferrets and the like. I am tired, and in between these readings, I take numerous micro-naps. it's not that what I'm reading is boring - it's just that I have this propensity to sit at my computer until four am. I work numerous hours, and by god, I'm not going to let sleep infringe on my free time. I read some, and then I drift off... I dream about show ferrets in competition, all fluffed out and squeaky-clean, their heads lifted high. I have only seen dog shows, so forgive me if my mind takes some liberties. Trotted around on leashes before the judges, the ferret contestants prance like nobility, their owners behind them, discreetly using tissues to clean up any "accidents." The whole idea of it all seems so regal and Olympian. There are ferrets of all colors and combinations for everyone to "ooh" and "aah" about. Flashes from digital cameras go off, recording the event for posterity. I sink deeper into my dream, images of perfect ferrets changing like a slideshow in my mind, when I am awakened by a pawing at my leg... It is Dusty. He is standing on his back legs, leaning on my leg to let me know that he's there and available, in case I didn't want all my sandwich. It is hard for him to stand like this, but he is on a mission. My eyes start to focus, and I look down and take a closer look at Dusty. He has recently had adrenal and insulinoma surgery, and boy - is he a mess. His hair is all thinned-out and scraggly, and to make matters worse, his belly is shaved, exposing a three-inch surgical incision. He is the Frankenstein of ferrets. Dusty is of the tattooed-ear clan, definitely not show ferret material. As a kit, he was not quite a silver mitt, but a hybrid of white and grey, hence the name "Dusty." Now, in middle-age and disrepair, he looks like he permanently needs a bath. Frankenferret paws my leg again, because he is still worried that my sandwich is going to waste. I show him my empty hand, and he leaves in a huff. I watch him walk away. His belly is extended and misshapen because of his diseases, and his gait is awkward. It doesn't stop him, however. He is on a mission. Only temporarily discouraged, he heads off to check on the status of the dog food bowl. I am too tired to care. I drift off back to sleep in my computer chair... I dream that Dusty is in the ring at a ferret show, standing there in bewilderment. People are laughing and throwing popcorn at him as he waddles around the ring, doing his best to attempt a trot. Ferret judges disapprovingly shake their heads at him and head towards more appropriate prospects. It is then that I realize that I am in my own dream. I make an attempt to comfort Dusty, but it is of no use. He and I slink back home in total humiliation, but not before he grabs a kernel of popcorn to go. The audience boos as we exit the stadium... Sid saves me from my imagined humiliation, awakening me by pawing at my other leg. I cough a bit, choking on my drool. I take a sip of tea. He looks up at me sideways, head tilted. His head is always tilted. He survived a serious bacterial infection in his ear, but it left him with a permanent head-tilt. I pick Sid up. All he wants is attention. He has no interest in my sandwich. Sometimes I think all he wants is understanding. I do my best to give it to him. Sid has had a hard life. Banished from his first home for killing a hamster, we took him in, only to have our resident ferrets beat the crap out of him on a daily basis. This went on until the day he got sick. Somehow, his sickness transformed him. No longer did the resident ferrets pick on him at their leisure. He self-learned some kind of martial art for ferrets, where he uses his head tilt as an advantage to roll underneath his opponent. Even if his victim is on the wrong side, he circles around to his advantage, and slides underneath them. It is amazing to watch. The resident ferrets, who used to beat the crap out of him on a daily basis, now cringe in fear when they see him coming. This might be a somewhat positive thing for Sid, except for one thing; whether he is getting his butt kicked or kicking butt himself, he is almost always alone. Sometimes Sid wants to play like any normal ferret. He will go up to give one of the other ferrets a playful nudge, but instead of nudging him back, they end up fleeing in terror, their tails poofed. He will cock his head as only he can, and give them a quizzical look before he gives chase. He does not understand why they won't play with him. I can always tell when Sid catches one of them, because I'll hear them screaming for their life. I will get out of my chair and "rescue" them, but usually the only damage done is some slobbered-on fur. I try to tell Sid, "Hey, you murderous schizoid, if you wouldn't try to kill them first thing in the morning, they might want to play with you in the afternoon." He cocks his head and looks up at me sideways, trying to understand, but he just can't. He then wanders off, either to start another homicidal rampage, or to take a nap. Except for his head tilt and his temperament, Sid is a perfect ferret. He is a nice weight and build, and his coat is a beautiful white and silver. His face is that of a cherub amongst ferrets. You have to look closely to see the horns. If not for his impairment, I would put him up against any show ferret. I think about Sid and his horns as I drift back to sleep... Sid and I are transformed into the center of an important ferret competition. The lights are bright. It is at the end of the competition, and tension is in the air as the ferrets and their owners wait for the announcement of "best of show." There are exotic ferrets of all kinds, some with long wavy hair, and some with muscular builds like tiny otters. Out of all the fanciful ferrets at the show, however, none has the face of my cherub. Sid poses on his stand, proud nose in the air. I give him a final brushing, but no need - he is already perfect. The judges walk to the microphone stand and the lights go down. Spotlights start swirling, waiting for the judges to make their announcement so they can shine on the winner. Sid tilts his head and shifts his front feet, posing for the audience. He is a confident little ferret, and without shame he knows that he is about to be awarded the medal for "best of show." Digital cameras flash, and the crowd is abuzz. One of the judges grabs the microphone. "The winner of third place in the best of show division goes to..." The crowd quiets, but there is still murmuring in the audience. All the ferrets in the competition are nervous, hoping that their name is not called for this award. Suddenly, the spotlight shines on Ollie. "Third place in the best of show division goes to Ollie, the wavy-haired cinnamon." The crowd claps politely, but Ollie and his owner show obvious disappointment. I think I see Ollie softly crying, his owner dabbing tears from his eyes with a tissue. The show continues. "The winner of second place in the best of show division is awarded to..." Sid is not even paying attention. He knows he has this all wrapped up. He continues to pose for the audience, his eyes closed, a cherubic smile on his face. All of a sudden the spotlight shines on Sid. The judges have just awarded Sid second place in "best of show!" Sid is not happy. His eyes, no longer closed and relaxed, are now little slits. He does a slow burn as the show continues. No longer posing, he focuses intently on the announcement of the winner. The spotlight swirls around and focuses on the winning ferret. "The winner of best of show, for the year two-thousand and five, goes to... Prince Buster the second!" The crowd claps and whistles, and Prince Buster takes a well-deserved bow. I am mildly disappointed that my little cherub has only taken second place, but disappointment is the last thing I see in Sid's face. His face has quite another look - the look of a ninja assassin. Calmly, Sid jumps down off his podium and heads over to Prince Buster, as if to congratulate him. But I know better. I start to yell at Sid, "No, you little schizoid, don't do it!" But it is too late. I hear screaming and crying coming from their direction. Sid is underneath Prince Buster, in a sort of hammer-lock, biting down on his ear. Buster is screaming for all he's worth, his tail poofed. With each scream, Sid bites down a bit harder on the new "best of show." Sid is not good with rejection, as one might gather. No blood is drawn, thankfully. My defense will be easier. Animal Control is called, and we are escorted off the property. I pay a small bond, and Sid is released to my custody. Later that week, I am served with papers. Prince Buster's owners are indeed suing. They want me to pay to have Buster professionally un-slobbered. Sid and I end up in Ferret Court (a show on Animal Planet - who knew?). Sid manages to hide his horns, looking quite the cherub. I start to argue my slobber defense... I am awakened with a jolt. I hear whining and crying coming from the kitchen. It is almost four in the morning, and the house is dark. I walk quickly to see what the problem is, although I already know. I turn on the light. Sid has gotten hold of Shelby, and both their tails are poofed. What's with all the tail-poofing? Can't you two monkeys just get along? Unpoof yourselves, already! I separate them, picking up Shelby to comfort her. Her fur is all wet. Meanwhile, Sid looks up at me from the floor, head cocked, innocently wondering what's wrong with Shelby. I shake my head at the little schizoid. I go back to my computer to read more about the ferret show controversies, but it all seems so ridiculous now. I finish my tea, now cold, and close my email program. I look over at Dusty and Sid. Sid is fast asleep and Dusty is sucking on his ear, both seemingly content with this arrangement. I know that Sid will eventually complain about the little ear-nipper on his back, so I separate them, putting Dusty in the lower hammock. I head off to bed, myself. I have to admit; mine are no show ferrets. They will never win any medals or blue ribbons. They are ferrets of the tattooed-ear clan, an embarrassment to ferret royalty. The only thing they will ever win is a place in my heart. I hope they are happy with that. I know that I am. Roary Albuquerque, NM blog - http://ferretphilosophy.blogspot.com/ [Posted in FML issue 5012]