It was a terribly hot day to be wearing a fur suit in Northern Central Massachusetts, even this early in the morning. Even the thin, wiry summer fur suits were almost too much for Todd and Caff-Pow. It was overcast with a light breeze that tossed the jeweled, two-toned dragonflies about. The bees held tight to the faces of the sun flowers as they swayed on their long prickly green stems. The wrong, silvery side of the birch leaves were showing with every blow, promising thunderstorms in the future. But for the moment, it was just hot. Danged hot. So Caff-Pow applied his strong young back to popping open the cage door (Todd tends toward brain, Caff-Pow toward brawn) and two gray ferrets scampered across the hardwood floor of the Sargent-Colburn household. They took turns pushing at the back screen door until the worn old spring finally gave up with a creak and then they were on the back deck, and then they were in the deep clover. The hoomin hob hadn't mowed it in some time so the two were literally sailing across an ocean of emerald-green clover, tails held high to spare them the damp from the lingering dew that hadn't burned off yet in the morning sun. Caff-Pow went first and Todd followed in his wake up, up the hill in the back yard. Finally the two ducked beneath the worn plank fencing that surrounded the vegetable garden at the top of the hill and were *immediately* dismayed! For you see, they had walked straight into the strawberry patch, a strip of plants three feet wide, a foot high, and almost thirty feet long. And just *dripping* with dew from the night before! "AAARGH!" snarled the now drenched Caff-Pow. Todd spit out bits of serrated leaf that were clinging to his face in the most unpleasant fashion and said "Why does anybody like strawberries? Why?" With that the two crashed through the berry patch in great leaps that left them decidedly moist. Neither weasel was pleased by the experience, and they took a minute standing between the berry and squash patches to groom one another and to pick the occasional errant strawberry runner from between their toes. As unpleasant as it is to crash through a wet strawberry patch, the squash patch is a delight in every way. It is a dry, shaded, cool space seemingly lit from within by the enormous five-pointed orange blossoms carried on the curling vines. Shafts of muted sunlight slant down between the enormous leaves giving the whole space a sacred feeling, like a cathedral. It is a calm, quiet, contemplative place, blessedly cool and fragrant with moist earth. And that is where Todd and Caff-Pow went, ducking down to push through the first few barrier leaves and then they found themselves in the realm of the zucchini, the summer crook-necked, the waltham butternut. Todd pointed with one paw to a particularly large zucchini that the hoomins had not been able to see beneath the leaves. It lay cool and green and enormous with faint dark stripes like an alligator along its back, hidden in a mossy river bank, invisible. The two boys loped over to it and sat down, their backs leaning against the enormous vegetable. It was cool, shaded, and special in that spot. It was some time before either weasel spoke. Some times and places and do not require chatter, and Todd and Caff-Pow were happily in one of those times, in one of those spaces. The zucchini was deliciously cool against their backs. Finally Todd said "This is purely wonderful." Then he closed his eyes and rested the back of his head against the squash like an enormous pillow. He smiled, gently. Caff-Pow considered that and said "Yes, summer is beautiful but it is so hard and sad to watch it fade away into fall every year," and he scrubbed at one ear with a paw where a bit of strawberry leaf still lingered, tickling. Todd opened his eyes wide, regarded his companion and said "I didn't know you felt that way, 'Pow. You're always so positive." Caff-Pow was quiet for a time and then he said "I just feel a little sad when the birds leave and all the flowers fade. I always wonder did I miss something? Did I miss some part of summer that I should have enjoyed? Was I too busy, was I in the cage when I should have been outside enjoying myself? I wonder, and then it's too late." Todd rested one paw on Caff-Pow's knee and said "We live well, 'Pow. We are ferrets. We see, we smell, we explore, we rumble, we climb, we play. We love life to the fullest. We live life in a way that hoomins can't even imagine. Regret is for hoomins, not ferrets." Then Todd closed his eyes once again and snuggled against the zucchini. Caff-Pow thought about that. He wasn't a particularly philosophical weasel. He lived very much in the moment--knocking over wastebaskets, climbing draperies, trying to find his way into the dryer and the dishwasher with the fragrant rubber gasket. But one does have a certain amount of time to reflect in the cage. To reflect on the nature of time, especially. Life goes by so quickly for a weasel. Caff-Pow looked over at his friend, now definitely starting to doze against the enormous zucchini and he smiled gently. He and Todd might not live long, but they did live well. There was nobody that Caff-Pow wanted to live his life with more than he wanted to live it with Todd. Caff-Pow smiled and closed his eyes and found a comfortable spot up against the zucchini and he dreamed...wonderful things.Wonderful things. Alexandra in MA [Posted in FML 6761]