Hello everyone, My name is John Campanie. I have been subscribed to this list for just over a month. I have been completely happy lurking and listening to you all. I am also quite new to the Internet. I joined a number of mailing lists in my eagerness to explore "The Information Superhighway," -- what I found, was a lot of useless chatter. This list has been the exception, and a glowing one it is. Bill has moderated the list, I think, excellently. There is definitely a happy medium between hard facts and humorous and obviously heart-felt stories. I have enjoyed each and every item I have read. It is a great joy for me to see that such a small animal has such a large and caring following. I have been honored to be part of the FML, but it seems that all good things come to an end. Which brings me to the reason I did, after all, post to this list. Just over a year ago (on April Fool's Day to be exact) I purchased a ferret through a friend I have at the newspaper at which I work. It was a simple idea -- Single man, empty apartment + small pet = happy home. Little did I know how she would fasten herself to my life and my heart. The Snake Pit, my ferret source, was located in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York. They didn't openly disply ferrets as it is (to my knowledge) illegal to sell them -- a Ferret Free Zone. So I had to talk to the owner, Anthony, a really nice guy who had had his share of exotic pets. He quickly affirmed that he could obtain a good specimen, and would discount her to me. He searched all over Brooklyn and Queens, finally settling on a private breeeder. He picked her out and brought her to the store to meet me. At first sight she wasn't much, no more than a little ball of fur, really. I had always wanted a ferret but didn't know much about them. She wanted out of the box immediately and didn't hesitate to make that fact known. A friend was with me and we were both smitten with the little rug-rat. She was so CURIOUS. Inquisitive. Like an explorer. It's too bad that such a great characteristic could be one's downfall. We took her from the store and from that point on I was suddenly friends with everyone! No one (well, few people anyway) could resist her charms. Every kid within fifty feet was drawn like moths to a flame, irresistably. She too, revelled in the attention. A real character. In my college days, I belonged to a rugby team named the "Potsdam Polecats." A polecat for those of you who have not yet discovered the joy of ferretry, is a layman's term for a skunk or ferret, among others. So it wasn't a great leap of imagination that lead me to name the spunky jill RUGBY. Rugby, over the course of a year, flourished. I took her everywhere with me. On trains, in cars, on the subway. She made friends wherever she went. And I, in turn grew to appreciate the species and to love her. To everyone who would pet, cuddle, hold, or kiss her, I tried to impart some piece of information that they had previously been unaware. We were not only attention-getters, but also EDUCATORS. Rugby, with her gentle attitude and calm patience was a star exhibit. She disproved every ferret-hater's comment by her very presence. What a girl! She rode in my jacket everywhere as I couldn't find a proper bag for her. Even, I hesitate to admit, to bars. I think that most of South Brooklyn knew Rugby and me with the newspaper I work for. She was the mascot who wasn't -- the unsung hero. Anyway, I had always hoped to post all of the crazy antics that you people are familiar with -- knocking over glasses, messing in the corner, hiding my papers, sleeping in the laundry, digging through the floor of the bathroom (yes, she did that too), but I never got around to it, although I did enjoy IMMENSELY all of your input. Every morning when I first got into work I would read the FML, the only mailing list I remain on, to lift me up. Never did I miss Rugby more than after hearing of all the antics of your loved ones. I would rush home to see, her, hold her and sleep with her. Last Saturday, Easter Eve, at 7 p.m. I took my garbage out to the street, overlooking the most basic precaution of my ferret-proofed apartment, latching the door. I could have sworn I heard it latch. Well I took out the trash (1 minute later), with Rugby roaming freely around the basement apartment. It was such a nice night out, a neighbor was barbecuing. He struck up conversation with me briefly (4 min later) and I returned to my apartment (five minutes total lapse). No Rugby. Under the couch? No. In the bathroom? No. In the laundry? No. OUTSIDE. My worst fear confirmed. She managed to get out after months of constantly battling my every effort of containment. I know she loves me, but there are things to do...places to go... We searched, me, my girlfriend and the neighbors, with no great hope of success, I'm afraid. I've learned a lot about ferret psychology. She's gone. Where? Who knows... At least I have the luxury of imagining someone nice stumbling upon a chipper, dooking critter and taking them home, I hope. The alternatives aren't as pretty. So for all you ferret owners out there, take a minute and appreciate that warm, cuddly furball, because no matter how much you love them, there are things to do...places to go... John Campanie [log in to unmask] P.S. Maybe it IS sympathy I want, but don't I deserve it...she was my best friend! Any suggestions for carrying on would be appreciated. Sympathy letters private e-mail only, thanks. Don't want to clutter up the FML after all... [Posted in FML issue 1168]