Frrt.

Now, I'll be the first person to speak out against buying pets on impulse; an animal deserves careful planning and money put aside for its care before it comes home.  However, I want to tell you about the little weasel that made me eat those wise words two years ago...

It started out innocently enough: a friend and I were having a girly day shopping at the mall. I was buying scented tea lights, of all things (although those who know me know that candles are a bit of a worrisome addiction for me; visiting my apartment is akin to attending a seance).  Thus happily laden down with bags of fruity-smelling wax, we were wandering the mall when we happened upon a pet store. Despite knowing about the many evils of pet stores (especially ones in malls that sell puppies), the 2 year old in me can't resist going in to oogle the animals.  We made our way through the store uneventfully, until a musky whiff made me turn and exclaim: "Oh! They must have ferrets!"

Indeed they did; a tall cage full of hanging furniture and two snoozing ferrets. One was a half grown white knee sock, and the other just a tiny ball of brown and black fluff.  They were curled around each other slumbering in complete bliss.  I've always been interested in ferrets, but never enough to ask a pet store employee to let me hold one.  That day was a different story, and momentarily I was holding the smaller of the two nestled in both hands.  The tiny thing woke up, blinked blearily at me, sneezed, stretched, and promptly fell back asleep. The helpful sales girl informed me he was a boy, and only 3 months old.  For a weasel, he was almost unbearably cute. A little crowd had gathered around us to pet him; everyone likes baby animals. Some 18 year old d-bag with his arm slung around his girlfriend pushed in close and proclaimed loudly: "S'cute, eh babe? I could get that if I wanted, I could buy that right now. You want one-a those?" While I was proud that he could string a sentence together, I worried about the fate of any ferret with someone who didn't seem capable of pulling his pants up over his ass or putting his hat on straight.  I held the little critter until they swaggered out (the idea of ownership quickly forgotten in the midst of shopping sounds and shiny objects) and then tried to return the still sleeping furball to its cage. In his sleep, the ferret had curled his little fists around the lapel of my coat, and when I tried to lift him back, he hung on tight.  Something bubbled up in my heart just then, and I didn't give him back.

I couldn't.

We bought the bare essentials (my friend thoughtfully helped me out) and headed home with a little cardboard carrier poked with air holes. We set up my foster guinea pig cage and I hopped on the internet to learn as much about ferrets as I could. After the fact, I know, but I was a quick study.

He slept a lot. He sneezed a lot. He had coccidia (ew).  I had the wrong bedding in his cage and too few litter boxes.  Eventually I got everything set to rights, and man, all I have to say is:

Best.
Pet.
EVER.

Ferrets are fearless, curious, and always up for an adventure.  Kirby (as he was quickly named) will chase the cats through the apartment and pester them until I have to go to the rescue. "Saving" a wailing 15 pound cat from a 2 pound ferret shows just how tenacious they can be.  Kirby lives to play and explore and steal (mostly my underpants, which he then stashes under Nik's dresser).  In the summer the dogs, the ferret, and I all go around the block together, much to the amusement of our neighborhood.

We have had a couple of types of cages for Kirby, but eventually upgraded to the ultimate weasel dreamhome: The Ferret Nation.

Kirby has not snuggled with me since the week I bought him; he's been too busy! He has to rearrange his cage furniture and wrestle with Bruin and run down the block and chase Nik's ankles and make Stubcat cry and sneak off to poop in the corner and and and...

...you can see how he has to prioritize.

You can find videos of Kirby on my YouTube channel (http://www.youtube.com/user/brindlepants) that will help you appreciate the brattiness, the badness, and the absolute sweetness of owning a ferret.

At the end of the day, after I've caught him peeing beside his litter box, or pulled him off a screaming cat, or had to dig through a whole cupboardful of pots and pans to retrieve him, Kirby sleeps as if he's in a coma.

There IS rest for the wicked, after all.