Dear Ferret Folks- I agree with Jeff, Alicia's compendium of "Lessons Learned From Ferrets" is a very interesting topic. Ferrets have taught me about something that does not come easily to me--simple, uncomplicated joy. I don't mean ROFL laughter, I mean the quiet appreciation of life on life's terms in the moment...how wonderful a single moment or experience can be if your heart is prepared to embrace it fully. My first ferret Don't, sister of No taught me about this. Simple things made Don't so happy. Taking a ride in the pick up truck, lying upside-down on the dashboard in the full sun, face and whiskers up to the sky, watching the world race by. She used to love that. And although obviously I was too big to lie upside-down on the dashboard myself, just watching Don't enjoy those moments made me feel good, too. Every time. Her simple delight when I would go through the Dunkin' Donuts Drive-Thru and order a bagel with salmon cream cheese on the side. The pink, fishy cream cheese came in a little container that I would hold still for Don't so that she could lick it clean after I had smeared the bulk of the cream cheese on my bagel. She trusted me to hold it carefully still so that she could enjoy every speck. She knew I would do that for her every time, we were friends. Friends help one another. Don't so enjoyed going for a walk on her leash through the campus of a college I was taking a few courses at. She knew her route by heart. She always turned at the same places, anticipating the way to class. And along the way, there were formal planters and garden beds full of rich earth and decorative bark mulch. She would stop, and I would patiently wait for her to do a little digging here and there. She would burrow into the earth until her head and shoulders disappeared, the she came up "fnnnfing" and blowing dust and dirt out of her snout...then she would go on to enjoy the next, and the next. It was serious ferret business, but she embraced the responsibility without reservation, in peaceful acceptance. And she enjoyed each pawful or earth that she moved, each one. None were taken for granted. She had her simple pleasures at home, too. She was just a little girl-- always just a tad under a pound. But she was a world class potato dragger. I kept a ten pound paper sack of potatoes in the pantry closet, on the floor. And sometimes it was her job to climb inside, select a potato that weighed considerably more than she did, and drag it a good twenty or thirty feet and stash it under some furniture. She used to grunt with effort as she dragged these mammoth brown boulders across the floor. Sometimes she'd let go, and circle around and around the potato, considering it like an artist considering the block of marble that he envisioned a beautiful statue emerging from. And then she'd sink her fangs into a different spot, and off she would go. All of these labors...some that I understood and some that I did not. She performed them *joyfully*. Never hurrying, never doing any of them half-way. And she moved through the cycle of each day like that, taking joy in the simple things. A sunny dashboard. A lick of cream cheese. A patch of rich bark mulch. The earthy perfume of a potato. All enjoyed and appreciated in their turn. I remember Don't often, and I have tried to live a bit more like her. Joyfully. Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML 5849]