A potential tragedy was averted in our household several weeks ago. I haven't posted it to the FML since then, for fear the other readers would think I'm a Bad Ferret Dad for letting it happen in the first place. However, it's important to share information like this in order to prevent future tragedies, and at least this story has a happy ending. When we brought Baldrick home, we crawled around on our hands and knees, using plywood and other materials to block off gaps in the running boards and such things, and congratulated ourselves on providing such a safe living space for our ferret. There was one trouble spot that got by us, though, and of course Baldrick helpfully found it. In the mornings Baldrick likes to hang out with me in the bathroom so he can play in the shower and leap out and lick the water off my ankles when I'm drying off, and be generally entertaining while I'm shaving and performing other grooming tasks. He's not allowed in there unattended, however, for various reasons (e.g. we don't want him taking laps around that funny porcelain swimming pool in the corner). I let my guard down that morning, though, and left him there while I walked around the house filling various bowls with Iam's. (The story about how we came to keep cat food in a cupboard in the bathroom is one of those domestic sagas too long and involved to recount here). When I returned with the sack of cat food, I shut the cupboard and went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Fifteen minutes later, we noticed Baldrick's mysterious disappearance. We walked around the house checking the usual comfy curl-up spots (sock drawer, towel cupboard, under the bed), and squeaking his fuzzy dinosaur (which always gets his attention). No response. That was when I remembered about the cupboard, and realized he must have gotten locked in there, with its unlimited supply of Iam's crunchies. We looked, but no fuzzy was forthcoming. Further examination revealed a small gap between some boards which led, apparently, to the drawers on the other side. Was he in the drawers with the nail clippers? He was not. Out came the drawers, and we saw what we had never noticed before: under the bottom drawer, there was no plywood as we expected, but simply a gap, leading who knows where, with the exposed floorboards showing underneath. Worse still, a heating duct lay open, not quite reaching the vent we always supposed was safe! Our fears were confirmed when the dinosaur's squeaks were answered by a small, faraway, scratchy sound which could only have been Baldrick. We turned the thermostat down as far as it would go. We squeaked and begged and implored at the duct opening, and the echoing sounds of Baldrick's footsteps grew louder, but apparently there was a steep incline or some other obstacle which prevented him from coming out. The thought of our ferret trapped in a dark, hot, galvanized aluminum labyrinth with a direct connection to the gas furnace had me in shock and Scott in tears, and I redoubled my squeaking efforts while Scott paced madly around the house trying to figure out what to do. A few minutes later, Scott instructed me to stop squeaking and to come into the kitchen; he had the vent in that room disassembled and his arm up to his shoulder reaching into the duct. He said he had heard a noise. The kitchen vent was connected to the main duct by a vertical connector about four feet long; doubtful that even a ferret could climb up that. Our hero Scott ingeniously threaded a towel through the opening and draped it down into the duct, and I held the end of the towel while he took up squeaking duty. I felt a tug on the towel! Almost immediately we saw the unmistakable shape of Baldrick's head, and he emerged completely gray, covered in dust and the relieved kisses of his humans. Now, of course, the vents have all been thoroughly inspected, the cupboards have new latches on them, and the humans are painfully aware of how even a moment's inattention can lead to disaster. At the risk of being perceived as a negligent ferret dad, I wanted to share the moral of this story: be alert! Even though they are well-suited for living with humans who take the responsibility of providing a safe living environment, they are equally ill-suited as companions for foolish humans who live in houses with weird ducts and other dangers. With one moment of human thoughtlessness, a ferret's existence can transform from the most blissful tableau of domestic tranquility into "The Perils of Pauline". Hug a ferret today! -Brandon + a thankfully intact Baldrick, who explored thoroughly, but still can't figure out where all the ducks are supposed to be. [Posted in FML issue 2616]