Trash Farewell, naughty weasels.
I am often accused of making poor decisions, but I have terrible listening skills, so accusations don’t faze me much. However, I’d like to apologize to all of the friends, roommates, mothers, guests and nosy strangers who have endured the ramifications of my latest bad decision/impulse buyRodeo and Fichus.
I made a friend drive me to Tacoma to retrieve them (thanks Ben!). The woman I bought them from was shady, and the cage they were kept in was smelly and crowded with ferrets. I quickly learned that my ferrets did not like to be held or touched. I suspect they were neglected, if not outright abused at one of their former homes. I named the female Rodeo, because she likes the taste of blood, and the male Fichus, because he’s more of a benign chewer.
In case anyone out there has never interacted with a ferret, and are under the impression that they make good pets, let me help you out: Their hobbies include nesting, biting, and shitting on things.
For about three months, we settled into a comfortable routine. I would load my pockets full of raisins when I got home from work and release the rodents. They would attempt to bite me while I threw raisins at their faces. (Ferrets hate many things, but they love raisins.) Going barefoot inside the house was no longer an option. Or standing still for more than 15 seconds at a time. Or having guests over. My ferrets hated everyone, but especially gay men. I thought that was kind of funny. (Sorry Craig!)(And Joey!)(And Jared, Eric, etc!)
When they weren't attacking me or my roommate (sorry again, Craig!), they were sniffing out the most expensive place possible to take a shit.
One day, I bought them little ferret leashes, because I naively hoped I could take them for walks, like I would a dog. When I strapped them into their leashes, they lay down and refused to move. I dragged them in limp circles around the kitchen for a few minutes, waiting for our "walkâ to get fun, before I gave up and released them. They immediately loped over to my most expensive pair of leather shoes and began shitting.
Yes, they resembled intestines with fur (thanks for the warning, Dave!). Yes (Jake), they did possess the aggressiveness you'd expect if you mated an alley cat with an angry snake. But no (Mother), they were not always naughty weasels. Regardless of their faults, I think they were happier with me than at their former home. Sometimes while they were busy shitting on my things, one would stop to stare at me, and I could see gratitude reflected in its cold, beady little eyes.
They were just coming from a bad place that I couldn't help them recover from.
So after weeks of agonizing, last night I took them to a ferret sanctuary in Auburn to be rehabilitated (thanks Denise!). I cried the whole way there and back. I'm still pretty torn up about it, although the scars on my hands and my screaming roommate tell me it was the right thing to do. Still, I am oozing sadness. I feel that possibly, someone should take me out for ice cream.
Sorry I let you down, Fichus and Rodeo. Get well soon, and Good Luck.