11 posts tagged “ferret”
I give you all Vin Vicious:
Actually, that's just a mid-weasel-war-dance moment of perfect timing. Anyone who has ferrets knows how hard it is to get candid photos of their speedy little selves.
After I took this shot, Lee played around with it a little in photo editing so the sign could be seen better:
A friend sent me this: Click on the link and scroll down to the article on black-footed ferrets. The webcam lets you watch a momma ferret who just gave birth on Friday. So far, I haven't seen her do much more than sleep (it is cute to watch her flip over and adjust herself into a weasel ball though) and I haven't caught sight of the babies yet, but I'm determined to see them!
Between Vinnie and Sylvie (Lee decided her name should be spelled with a "W," and I'm OK with that), our house is full of intrepid explorers. Nothing is sacred. My underwear could end up anyplace.
When you are faced with all that furball energy and curiousity, the only thing to do is to try to use it to your advantage. The ferret owners of the old days used to use them to catch mice and rats. They'd carry them around in their pants legs and peddle their services at nearby farms. They were the first exterminators.
Me, I'm far too squeamish to market Vin's services as a mouser. But a weasel has to earn his keep. So I decided to put his "ferreting" skills to the test and send him on Mission Impossible: Figure out where all the damn socks go and why they never make it out of the laundry in pairs.
He gave it his best shot, really:
Anybody in there?
But eventually, we had to concede that even Vin Weasel, Ace Detective, was no match for the ever-elusive Sock Thief.
Better luck next time, Vin.
Editor's Note: The above is pure fiction. Sure, Vin explored the dryer. But he didn't give a weasel's butt about my missing socks. In fact, if he'd found them, he probably would have just hidden them better, because that's what weasels do. His real job is simply to be cute.
Happy Weekending!
Although I didn't have a ferret of my own until my mid-20's, I caught ferret fever when I was just a kid. I would spend a few weeks each summer with my great-grandmother in West Virginia, and her neighbors had two of them.
The first time I saw a ferret, the neighbor lady was walking him up my grandma's driveway on a harness leash. The ferret trotted along almost like a puppy, stopping to weasel war dance now and then on the way. I fell in love. So when I was all grown up and had weasels of my very own, of course I wanted to try the leash thing. I think that over the years I attempted to walk three or four different weasels. The result always went something like this:
- weasel looks at me like I'm insane.
- weasel won't move other than to try to wiggle out of the harness
- weasel eventually gets sick of wiggling, rolls over and flops with his belly in the air, playing dead until I give up and remove the offending harness.
So I gave up, thinking there was something wrong with my weasel skills. After all, every now and then I'd see a couple walking their ferret across the campus where I work. THAT weasel bounced along quite happily, so it must be me.
Then my most recent next-door neighbors moved in, the ones who currently have six ferrets. They've been weasel people for decades, and admitted without shame that they've never been successful in taking a ferret for a stroll. Like mine, their ferrets prefer playing dead. And taking a weasel for a drag just isn't the point of the exercise.
So I still couldn't walk a weasel, but I felt a little better.
Flash forward to now. After the loss of Ginny and Cleo, Lee and I decided that we aren't getting any more ferrets for a while. It's the right decision, but it leaves the Vinster without in-house weasely companionship. He can visit with the neighbor's ferrets, but we still feel like we have to do more than ever to keep him entertained and content. So we bought a leash and decided to try the whole weasel-walking thing again.
Our first attempt was Wednesday night. I got the harness on Vin with minimal struggle and took him out into the yard. Lee was already there talking to the neighbors, who cracked up at mine and The Vinster's arrival. When I put him down, they leaned over the fence and began to count.
"One ... Two ... Three ... over onto his back he goes!"
But he didn't. He bounced and clucked and weazed all over the front yard.
I can't say I was "walking" him, exactly. It was more like I was following him as he bounded about. If I had tried to get him to go in any particular direction, I think we may have gone into "flop" mode. But he moved. And he got to explore the yard, something he'd never get to do without a leash. Unlike other pets, ferrets aren't smart enough to come home. And they're too fast to guarantee that you'll be able to catch them if they roam free.
I haven't seen the Vinster so animated and happy in a while. So we'll stick with this, even if we never get to the point of actually "walking him." It makes him happy.
And I finally have a ferret who doesn't play dead on a leash.
If you're like me, you let yourself slack a little bit on the exercise in the winter. You don't mean to, but curling up under warm blankets feels so much better than working out this time of year. Oh, and since you're always wearing layers upon layers of clothing, you don't notice the difference your lack of routine is making as quickly as you would, say, in the summertime.
Then February hits, and to keep from going crazy you remind yourself that spring is just around the corner. Sunshine, warm breezes, flowers, green grass. It will all be back soon, so you better do something about the size of your ass.
Unless you're Vinnie, that is. For a weasel, a bit of pudge just adds to the cute. See?
Speaking of critters, Bailey is doing OK. They did have to remove some of his intestines as well as the blockage, so the vet wanted to keep him on a 48-hour watch period. Mom, my sister and my niece went to see him yesterday, and he was alert, perky, moving around and happy to see them. The one problem is that he's not eating. Because he seems in such good spirits otherwise, Mom is pretty sure that this is only because he's not at home. Bailey is a creature of habit and she even has trouble getting him to eat when they take him on road trips to the cabin. The vet agrees, but really wants him to poop before she releases him so they can make sure everything is coming out the other end OK. If he won't eat, there's nothing to poop, so they're in a holding pattern.
So keep thinking good thoughts and send some "eat and poop" vibes Bailey's way, please!
At least, they seem to around here.
In this household, it seems we're ALL desperate for the caffeine:
Hmmm ... I think the fact that instead of getting Vin off the counter and cleaning up the spill I ran and got my camera might mean that *I* hadn't had enough coffee yet myself, huh?
The past few days have been rather frustrating for Vin Weasel. First, the Girl Human goes and gets a cold and lays around in bed. This means he gets less playtime, because he ankle-bites sleeping people.
Then the Boy Human gets all into playing football on Playstation, and when she's not sneezing and sniffling both The Boy Human and The Girl Human play the Sims. Again, less play-time, because ankle-biting while the humans are trying to score touchdowns or keep Sims from peeing themselves is apparantly "distracting." To top it off, the humans decide to redo the bathroom, which keeps them both far too occupied to entertain weasely types.
Whatever, says Vin. The Girl Human tries to explain that things will go back to normal in a few days when The People go back to work and don't have time for things like naps or computer games.
Again, Vin says whatever. With all this extra time on his hands, Vin has compiled "A Weasel's Guide to Showing Humans How You REALLY feel" when they aren't providing quality entertainment.
1. Sit on human and give it a look that lets it know you think it's really missing the point.
2. Attempt to call the weasels who live next door to organize a protest, because their humans are probably all whacked out for the holidays too. Do your best not to let the humans know you're a little embarrassed to find out the "phone" is really just the stupid cell phone case.
3. Since they're so focused on their stupid home improvement, let them know what you think of their interior design skills by pointing out that their wall art would make a good weasel equivalent of a rock climbing wall, or maybe a snack.
4. Humans still not getting the hint? Go for the kill. You aren't called "ferret" for nothing. Go find the stupid Playstation games.
5. Smackdown, my butt. You can take this guy, with just a little nose-nudge.
6. The grand finale, and this is REALLY important.
Be so impossibly cute that no one could EVER think you did that on purpose.
Ferrets don't have to go to counseling or read books like "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" or "He's Just Not That Into You" to understand each other and keep the love alive. They've figured out that the two most important things in a relationship are lots of snuggling and a little give and take. See:
Vin uses Gin for a pillow.
Gin uses Vin for a pillow.
The next time I get in that mood where I want to overanalyze my relationship, I think I'm just gonna act like a weasel instead.
Vinnie is torn about whether or not he likes it when I stay home from work. He loves the freedom it gives him, but he's not sure sure about the camera thing.
There are certain things he loves about me being home. Our neighbors have five ferrets, who have the run of their whole house because their owner only works part-time and can watch them all day. My gang, on the other hand, aren't quite as lucky. Since I'm stuck at work so much, they're usually limited to "their room." They have plenty of room to bounce and weasel war dance and play, but still - there's this whole house to be explored and I'm sure they feel like they're missing out on a great adventure.
So when I'm off, I try to give them "whole house time" and let them go exploring. Ginny decided to pass up the offer in favor of a nap today. But Vinnie was thrilled.
"Check me out ... I'm in the living room. But really, folks, if you were going to leave a bottle cap laying around, couldn't it have been one from a thing of booze instead of soda? A weasel needs a good buzz now and then, you know."
After his tour of the living room, Vin got the munchies. Mmmm ... potato chips.
After our quality time, I figured Vin owed me one. I tried to hold him up to our Christmas wreath, with the idea at I'd get some cute, cuddly, adorable Christmas picture. Vin had different ideas, and made it clear to me that posing for my silly holiday pictures is NOT in his job description.
"Put me down, or the purple ball gets it."
" A little help, here, people. This woman is camera crazy!"
If I know Vinnie, he's going to poop in a corner to get me back for this.
Dear Vox,
I'm back. Did you miss me? No, well OK. I don't blame you. I discarded you, slipped away in the night much like a drunk guy sneaking out of the bedroom of the girl he picked up at 2 a.m. before the sun comes up. It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry.
But let me explain.
I was a lost blogger, trying to find my way in a great big world. I'd been at Diaryland for years. People kind of consider it a place where online scribblers put on their training wheels, I know. But it had been good to me, and so I stayed and stayed. But my writing there turned more into a real diary, and although I probably have as much 'hey - look at me!" in me as anyone else, I do have a little pride. Plus, I say the f-word a lot there.
So, I locked that journal down, and keep it there for myself and my Diaryland friends who read it. Shortly after making that decision, I realized I had to venture out into the blogging world and find myself a new home. That's when I found you.
I liked you, I really did. But I was sort of a blogging tramp at the time. I checked out Wordpress, Blogspot, and you. I gave Wordpress up pretty quickly. It was cool, just not my type, I guess. I hung on to Blogspot and you, but found myself growing attached to Blogspot. Before long, I was seriously neglecting you.
So, what has made me come crawling back? Part of it is that some long-time friends of mine seem to have so much fun here. But I was coming by to check in on their lives anyway. I didn't need to start blogging here again to do that.
So let's be honest. The truth is, my needs are growing and changing. All my life, I've always been a wordie. I love writing and reading. I'm addicted to hearing myself type. But lately, something else has happened. The love of my life got me a digital camera for my birthday. He and I have been playing with it like two happy kids ever since. Suddenly, I find myself getting into the whole photo thing almost as much as I'm into words. I want to play in a place where it is fun and easy to blend the two.
And you know what? The other blogging options out there all rock in their own ways. But when it comes to the ability to organize, maintain and post photos (especially when you're a self-proclaimed airhead like me who doesn't want to have to think a whole lot about the whole thing), you are miles ahead. You are the Patriots in that respect, with the rest of the blog sites that I've explored limping along behind you - even the good ones.
So it seems I'm back. Don't be mad at me for being fickle. How can you be upset at this face?
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