The Weasel War Dance

There are so many things going on in our brand new lives!

Bruin, Marley, Stubs, Kirby and I are tucked safely away in our new apartment. We live on the 12th floor of a high rise right around the corner from my work.  Dimitri went to a new home with a coworker and is happy as a clam with free range of a whole house.  I couldn't have asked for a better situation for him. Poor Marley hated his guts in our old townhouse, and stuffing them into even closer proximity made her miserable.  Since the big Meathead left she has become much more friendly and is even allowing strangers to pet her (I imagine snowballs are also flying in Hell).  I miss the polydactyl prince, but it feels like everyone is where they should be.

Bruin is a whole other story, but I currently don't have enough liquor in my system to tell it calmly. Let's just say that things are improving with the help of Vitamin Ace.

What I want to talk about tonight is my KirbyD. I thought that this year of loss was at an end; that I was done saying goodbye.  During the whirlwind produced by the move, I noted that Kirby wasn't quite "right", but didn't think much of it.  He seemed a little thinner, his eyes were a little bleary, but he still seemed like his old asshole self. Once I was moved in, he began to cough. A lot. I thought it was the air conditioner effecting him, but decided to bring him to work just in case.

Palpation caused his vet concern, and after a couple of x-rays, it's now clear that something isn't right.  Kirby's spleen is quite enlarged and it's probable that he has a mass. Ferrets are prone to cancer, and even though he's only 3 years old, it's highly possible that my buddy has lymphoma.

I am still weighing my options as to what to do next.  One thing I DID do, however, is to get him the one thing he's always been missing...

I went out in search of a baby, something I could get as much life out of as possible, but we came home with a gigantic 4 month old male who kept getting left behind at the pet store while the smaller ferrets got adopted.  I have never seen such a fat, ridiculous animal.  We're going to have to get this roly-poly fatso out on the harness STAT!

Needless to say, Kirby was more than delighted with his new pal. They've been war dancing together nonstop.  I hope this enriches what time he's got left. He's got a lot of playing to do :)

 

 

2013: The Year of Goodbye

I am not a superstitious person by any means (except when someone jinxes my blood draws at work by exclaiming how LARGE a vein is; thus causing it to miraculously retreat into the body or blow on contact) but 2013 has absolutely been the worst year. EVER.  The number 13 and I have always been on good terms, but lately I wish those bastardly digits would just realize that enough is enough and stop messing with my life.

Things are supposed to be looking up and up and up.  I've finally gotten out of perpetual student mode and am working at a career I love (despite coming home nights covered in cat scratches and anal gland juice).  I love my coworkers, and despite my anxieties, they seem to enjoy me too. Well, they let me keep coming back, at any rate.  I've made some nice friendships in this city, lost a bit of weight, and all the hair I foolishly chopped off 3 (frigging!) years ago has finally regrown. Yessir, everything should be on the up-and-up.

 

(Behold, the worst decision of my hair's life)

But what do you do when the constants in your life that keep you sane suddenly disappear?

Losing Gryphon was a major kick right in the heart. Enough said. The morning after the euthanasia I poured two bowls of food (one for each dog) just like I had for years, then bawled on the kitchen floor while Bruin stood there looking mildly apprehensive (I think he was deciding if it was safe to edge around the crazy lady and eat his breakfast). Things have gotten much better; I get by with my pictures and talismans (my key-shaped ash pendant and paw print tattoo), and stories that mostly begin like: Remember that time Gryphon barked at/humped/chased/threw up on/etc. etc...

Damn, I miss that dog.

Sadly, Gryphon is not going to be the only best friend I lose this year.  

The beginning of a relationship is so goddamn wonderful; I wish we had the technology to freeze that phase and make it last forever.  Nik and I were all kinds of awesome.  We dated long distance for nearly a year with monthly visits, and finally moved in together in a new city. We quoted the same movies, we played the same video games (I was a tank and he was my healer), we held hands in the car, we made up voices for the pets and laughed at each others lame jokes.  We were so in sync with each other that our friends were nauseated.  I drifted through life with the calm certainty that I never had to worry: I had found THE ONE.  

Look at these smug douchebags. Happy as fuck.

 

But as the years went by things became strained without either of us really noticing.  Playful and witty repartee dwindled into fights about money, whose turn it was it scrape the furry leftovers out of the tupperware in the fridge, did you REALLY have to bring six dirty kittens home from work, why do you have to play so many video games...and so on and so on.

Suddenly it wasn't fun anymore. We began socializing apart. I escaped our troubles by sleeping, he escaped them by playing on the computer.  Everything the other one did became annoying.  The fighting and name calling increased to a level that was beneath both of us.

To sum it up: Nik is a nice person. I am a nice person. Together we are not nice people.  We are not a successful couple. Somewhere along the line we failed and our relationship does not work. We are going to move into separate places this summer and see what some space does for us.  

For the first time, well, EVER, I am going to live alone. I'm going to have to take care of myself. I am so goddamned scared.

While it was me who broached the idea of a separation, and I know it is the right thing to do, I cannot stop crying.  Like, something-is-broken-inside crying. How do people do this?

I love you, Nik. And I am sorry.  Please don't ever stop being my best friend.

The Magic of FerreTone

Trying to take a decent photo of a ferret is much akin to stapling water to a corkboard. Nigh on impossible!

I've seen photos like this...

 And this...

And even this (seriously?! Little sweaters?!)

And I HAVE to call shenanigans, or at the very least taxidermy! Real ferrets are FAR too busy being bad to hold still for even a nanosecond. It's like trying to say "hold still now" to an ADHD toddler on a pixie stick high...it just ain't happenin'.

There are exceptions, like if the ferret is passed out after a major mischief blitz

However, even in the deepest of slumbers, the ferret will sense you hovering by the cage, and the whirr of the camera's shutter will have them up and jittering around within moments.  Cherish that first sleeping picture; it's the only good one you're going to get.

 Yep. It's all downhill from here.

(This is why I drink)

Another way to subdue a ferret long enough to take a halfway passable photo is to overwhelm their already overstimulated senses by taking them outside.  The sensory overload of the great outdoors can momentarily stun a ferret and give you a split second for a photo opportunity. Sometimes. Often the resulting picture is merely an empty frame or a weasel-like blur doing a barrel roll. But sometimes you get lucky...

 (So THAT'S what you look like!)

(In this last picture, there was an RC car zooming by that froze him for roughly 1/8 of a second. Photographic gold!)

Besides sleep and sensory overload, there is one other trick up the ferret photographers sleeve that helps them to focus ferret attention.  I can guarantee that 90% of all good ferret photos are achieved with this method.

Behold.

The magic that is FerreTone.  This molasses-like syrup is the equivalent of crack to weasels everywhere.  If I had to cut Kirby's nails without a big dollop of that stuff to distract him, I would surely have cut off most of his toes long ago.  Nothing stops and focuses a wriggling weasel like this stuff. Even showing them the bottle can bring on an instant of stillness just long enough for a great capture.

Without FerreTone as an aid, these photos of Kirby wouldn't exist...

 

 

 (Okay, so the last two need credit from FerretTone AND the mad skills of photographer Serge Rivard. If you look closely at the last one, you can see FerreTone sludge on his chin)

While FerreTone is a lifesaver, it also makes for some funny outtakes...

I'd sign him up for rehab, but I wouldn't be able to get any more pictures :(

Carry on, my Wayward Son

Despite a myriad of faults (we call him B-ruin for a reason, as in: he's b-ruined our furniture, our lives, etc) Bruin is a pretty cool dog. I'll be the first to admit (after a couple of beers of course) that I don't give him enough credit. He went from a knock-kneed, screaming, piddling puppy to a long lanky adult who no longer makes water in his pants when you speak sharply. Okay, there is still screaming. No one is perfect.

 To begin with, Noons has a kick-ass spot on his chest that looks a little like a butterfly.

It looks great on that fab brindle background! 

Secondly, Bruin is ridiculously FAST. At the dog park, he isn't the obnoxious dog humper that Gryphon was; he's too busy galloping in circles like a demented race horse. Few dogs can catch him. To see him flying across a field is a marvelous sight.

Despite being a tall drink of water, Runes will fold himself up into the smallest possible chair and go to sleep. God help this dog if Nik and I get struck by lightening and he has to go to a home where he isn't allowed on the furniture. The floor is for lesser beasts like cats and drunken house guests. In the summer, you can see him out on the deck sitting in 'his' chair for hours, much to the amusement of the neighbors.

 Another cool thing is that he sleeps LIKE THIS...

 

I feel like I cannot document this enough. It is frigging adorable. He also woofs in his sleeps and curls his back toes. B'awww.

Runes has a whiny husky-like bark, but he doesn't use it often. I think our neighbors will like us a lot better now that they can walk past our windows without hearing "BAWAWAWAWAWAWWARRRRRRGGGGGRRRR#$%$%@!@#!@#WOOWOOWOOOOOOOO!" 

Gryphon was determined to guard us from passing old ladies and babies in strollers with his hellhound baying, but Bruney feels no need to raise an alarm.

He WILL cause a racket if treats are not forthcoming, however.

Bruin is a bit of a loner at the park, but he sure does love his marfs at home.  What is a marf, you ask? Well, when he was a puppy, Bruin didn't WOOF, he MARF'd.  In time, a 'marf' became any loved toy (Go fetch your marf!) or small animal Bruin took a fancy to.  He LOVES pocket pets. He was a proper mum to multiple foster kittens, foster guinea pigs, and foster hamsters.

 

(He was always very gentle, although I will admit that moments after the last picture was taken, he put the whole hamster in his mouth. Oooops)

But the BEST marf of all has proved to be his weasel, Kirby.  A marf that likes to wrestle is the best marf of all.

 Yep, Bruin is kind of a cool guy.  

His coolness counterbalances his baffling nervous energy and separation anxiety. It all makes most of the following forgivable...

 Oh, your favorite pillow? Sorry.

 

Good job stitching it up, Mom! I won't touch it again.

 

Just kidding, fuck you pillow!

 And you too, other pillow!

 (....seriously, dog?)

 Stripes make me upset!

 So do IKEA chairs!

Funnily enough, his destructive behavior is mysteriously curbed when he is wearing an e-collar (aka "Happy Hat"), as we happily discovered recently.  So now we can leave him loose while we go to work and school, although tales of a weird screaming lamp have been noted in our neighborhood.

Old Long, Tall and Ugly is enjoying being a single dog. While we miss our old boy terribly, we are so glad to have Bruin there to love.