SO many things have happened lately. But one event is much cooler than the rest. 
1.) My boyfriend, Stark, is moving back into his house, since it is a heck of a lot cleaner now. Woohoo! 
2.) We got a free Roomba, which I have named Reginald. He is a very nice Roomba. I enjoy putting Pokemon figurines on his back while he cleans. 
3.) I finally have a ferret! That's right! No kiddin'! 
Now if you know me at all, you know that I am animal-crazy. I work at a pet store, my pets gallery on my Facebook has the most pictures, if we get a new critter in at work I have to learn more about it, I paint animals at the zoo and end up teaching children why flamingos are pink, etcetera. When my friends have an animal question, they go to me. If someone needs a pet sitter, I got your back. 
Needless to say, I love my pets. (Even the snails.) However, for the longest time, I have felt that something was missing in my extended animal family. I wanted a critter that I could take with me on little outings, something to cuddle with, something more playful than my aging dog (she's still game for cuddling, though). A ferret fit this bill perfectly. However, my dream of owning Mustela putorius furo was forever doomed to be thwarted by my parents and their adamant insistence that the ferret would definitely be killed by our dog, a terrier, who is very good at killing rats and mice. 
But finally, the time was right. I knew that Saturday the 9th of July in 2011 would be the day I got a ferret. I knew this because at 4:30am, I couldn't sleep. I had woken due to overwhelmingly lovely dreams about ferrets. But when I was fully awake, the dreams became bittersweet. I could never have a ferret. Mother forbade it. I should just go ahead and quit trying. But still my mind carried on! By five I was still planning where I could fit a cage in my room. My tiny, animal-filled room. 
At 6 am, I decided to just commit to waking up fully. My friends and I were going to the annual local street fair today, so I might as well get ready early. I tried to distract myself from the tantalizing little weasels, but to no avail. 

At the fair, everything reminded me of ferrets. (Curses!) Little bowls? Those would be perfect for a food dish. A dog wearing a sweater? That reminds me of that photo of ferrets in sweaters!! AWW!
Best. Photo. Ever.
I made my ferret-brain-plague known to my friends, which included Stark. And since he had recently come upon a large sum of money, well, you can imagine what happened next. 
I guess I could have picked a better photo of him, but I love it when he mauls Pikachu.
We came home with this little guy. 
We bought him and all of his supplies at my work, so I could get the 20% discount (cha-ching). I originally looked at a little badger-striped one, but I remembered that he probably had Waardenburg's syndrome, a genetic defect that causes deafness. (I usually am completely attracted to owning defective or "broken" animals, but for my first ferret I decided to pick one that would be easier to train.) We also looked at a really dark sable boy with a black nose (!socute!) but he was an intense biter. We ended up going with one of the older ones from a previous shipment: a nice big ol' cinnamon. And man, I am glad we did. 
We decided to call him Zaphod (ZAY-fod) after Zaphod Beeblebrox from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. 
So far, after having Zaphod for close to a week, he's already come so far. His litterbox training is going well, he hardly bites (and when he does, it's a nip), and is learning that Stark and I are the "alpha ferrets". (We totally are.) 
At first, the shock of it all didn't sink in. I was surprisingly calm, sitting there in the passenger side of Stark's truck, playing with the animal I had been longing to own for a whole year. And now, today, this moment, it still hasn't sunk in. I think ferrets were the pet I was meant to own. It's almost as if he's always been here. It seems... normal. But simultaneously the most exciting thing of my life. 
Let's play!


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