Dear Ferret Folks- Every now and then I have a particular visitor. I think she is still five, but will be six soon. Her name is Harmony, and she is the grand-daughter of my neighbour at the end of the road. She actually lives in another town, but spends a lot of time here with her older sister, Brianna. Brianna is seven.They are very attractive little girls with carrot-red hair and not an ounce of reticence between them. They show up in my driveway astride little pink bicycles (Hannah Montana?) with chunky pink tires. Don't think they come to visit *me*. Nope. Harmony comes over more often than her sister, but whether together or singly the routine is the same. Is it maybe time to feed the chickens? Sure, what the heck. I usually have a few stale tortillas or some popcorn or bread heels. The chickens appreciate it. Often there is a request to see the ferrets. Sometimes I say yes, sometimes I don't. It depends on what I'm up to at that given moment. But usually I will bring Todd out. He is very gentle to little red haired girls. Caff-Pow, at four months, can be wild sometimes. He stays in the cage for these visits. The little girls admire him, but cannot yet hold him. The girls are a little wild, too. They all have some growing to do first. Well, the other day I was sound asleep on the sofa. There was a knock on the front screen door. "Hello?" "Hello?" I sat up blearily. It was Harmony. And instead of her sister Brianna, she had a *different* little red haired girl in tow. One I had never seen before. Harmony waved energetically and enthused "We came to see your hyena!" I thought "heyena?", but what I think I said was "huh?" As in hyena? WHAT hyena? And I realized that as usual, Harmony could not remember the word "ferret" and had made her own substitution. I was kind. I did not laugh in her face, although the temptation was strong. Very strong. As in, "laugh like a hyena." I invited the little girls in (I never did catch the name of the other one) and brought Todd out for a visit complete with patting and holding. Then, the lesson began. I insisted, absolutely insisted that the little girls accompany me to the computer room where I fired up my PC and sought out the Google search box. I typed in "hyena", then clicked "image." By then Harmony was anxious to go outside and harass the chickens, but I was adamant. She was going to see what a hyena looked like. It wasn't open to negotiation. Why? Because I wanted to make my little contribution to the education of today's youth? No. Because I was going to be *amned if the rumor started going around that "Danny Colburn's wife, the one with all the animals on Third Street? She has a hyena now." I imagined getting a knock on the door from the town of Templeton Animal Control Officer. "Mrs. Colburn? Your neighbours have raised some concerns about your hyena. Did you realize that we have ordinances against large carnivorous predators in Templeton?" Blah blah blah, etc. etc. etc. This is a small town. You know how the most preposterous rumors are nurtured in small towns, how they undergo the most explosive growth in no time at all. All it would take was Harmony happily telling her grandparents how much fun it was to pat the hyena. Harmony and her mysterious companion were suitably impressed by the hyena pictures. And I reiterated--I did *not* have any hyenas. I had *ferrets*. Ferrets. Nice little fuzzy ferrets. Not shambling, wolf-sized spotted hyenas that cackle in the darkness and steal dead wildebeests from pissed off lions. F-E-R-R-E-T-S. Regardless, I am still half expecting to go to the annual neighbourhood picnic in a few weeks and hear "so...what do you *feed* that thing, Purina Hyena?" Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML 6386]