It has come to my attention that I now share my life, my hopes, my dreams with two small and generally uncaring ferrets. Uncaring in fact is an understatement, because while I’m in the kitchen, cooking chicken wings for them because they like thier meat best roasted they are undoubtedly hatching a new plan to lunge thier tiny sharp teeth at my ears, parhaps not, I find it hard to imagine they give me the slightest thought at all. Even when I place said chicken wings into the hutch (cooled – they dont like it too hot) they seem less than grateful, although luckily quite sleepy so I avoided injury.
and yet I can’t help but love the little rotters. It was July when we bought them. Idly wondering though a game fair we saw a sign for “ferrets”. Paddy, who claims to have always wanted some as a child, suggested we go and have a look. A 14 year old gypsy boy bought out a tiny little bundle of helpess fluff, who sat bewildered on his palm. I was sold and have never looked back (we inevitable bought two – they like company apparently).