I thought I could never be embarrassed again after the time the ferret babies stole my tampons and brought them out into the loungeroom for a bout of world class wrestling when my husband had all his friends around. I was wrong. Mille, my tiny hyperferret, loves to play in my hair. I tip my head upside down so that my hair hangs on the carpet, and Millie burrows to her heart's content, trying to grab my hair and dooking with mock surprise when it slips through her little paws or through her teeth. Yesterday afternoon we were having a great game of hair snorkelling...that is, until Millie decided to start wardancing! As I screamed with laughter and not a little pain, she bounced around and around inside my tangled mass of hair, dooking and hissing, rolling and falling over with glee. Then she realised she was stuck, which only caused her to wardance and struggle all the more. I decided to call an end to the game before baldness set in, but...hmmm ...easier said than done. This little girl really WAS stuck. Those of you with long hair will be familiar with the difficulties encountered when trying to free a thoroughly entangled, highly excited ferret from your long, knotted tresses. Given that the whole sorry mess was attached to the top of my head, I couldn't see clearly enough to do anything effective about it! I clearly needed a helping hand - Jarrod - who was out the front, playing with the remote control car I bought him for his birthday (He's 29 years old and still showing no signs of growing up! ). So picture this: me, walking out the front door and down the driveway, desperately praying that none of my neighbours choose this moment to look out their windows. Me, trying to attract Jarrod's attention without attracting the attention of the group of neighbourhood kids who always gather to watch when he takes his car out. Me, standing forlornly on the footpath, with a wildly excited weasel suspended from my head. I needed no words to explain my dilemma when Jarrod finally came over to rescue me. His knowing eyes assessed the situation - the hysterical ferret, the nearly hysterical wife...he gently and wordlessly untangled Millie, and gravely handed her back to me. I ignored the hint of a smirk about the corner of his mouth, and with a frigid glare at the sniggering neighbourhood kids, stalked back up the driveway and into the sanctuary of my house. There are 2 lessons, I think, to be learnt here: Firstly, hair snorkelling is a perilous past-time; and secondly, if you want to stand out in a crowd, trying wearing a weasel in your hair! Cheers and Merry Christmas to all! Sophie, Millie hyperweasel, and Sinbad (Weaselus Maximus). [Posted in FML issue 1787]