I  just flung (flang?) ferret poop into my own face.

Go ahead: Ask…


Now that a day has passed and the dust, er… poop… has finally settled, let’s have ourselves a little conversation involving good ideas and bad ideas.

The boys sleeping in their hammock.

To begin: Ferrets are notorious corner-poopers. Whenever any two objects come into contact with each other at any time in any fashion a corner is created.

A corner that must be pooped in.

Preferably right after said corner has just been scooped, scrubbed, and vacuumed.

Because I am an awesome ferret mom of two awesome ferret dudes (who are cute and playful and friendly and curious and healthy and quiet and wiggly and awesome) I have never been surprised or upset to find poop in any of my apartment’s corners.

Because let’s face it: What would be accomplished with my being upset about it, and is there really any cause for surprise when this is among the most common (and goofy) ferret-wide shared traits?

My actual placemats are in English and Spanish. Weasels should be well-rounded.

Instead I plan ahead. Or try to, at least. In some corners I keep litter boxes (which Wesley prefers to use onlyuntil they’ve been pooped in), and in others I use packing tape to hold down laminated placemats to protect the carpet and to make clean-up easier.

In the “placemat corners” I always add an extra line of packing tape that extends above the floor level and onto the vinyl at the base of  the wall. I do this to keep the wall poop-free in the event I need something to push my li’l poop scooping thingy against to actually scoop up the poop.


Poop poop poop. As a word it loses so much impact in ferret stories because it’s just such a prevalent theme.

But I digress.

Placemat Placement: Tools of the Trade

Every couple of days I go on a ferret-chore-rampage in which I clean all the things, which involves, among other activities, giving the placemats a good scrubbing.

Every couple of weeks this chore rampage involves replacing the poop speckled packing tape.

Yesterday was one of those chore days.

Except that because I initially planned on just scrubbing the tape it was dripping with Antibacterial 409 when I began tugging at a loose end after deciding a replacement was in order as the amount of poop present had reached near record levels of grossness. (A level it doesn’t take the boys long to achieve…)

Wesley playing in his octopus

*tug… tug*

Hm. The tape appears to be stuck. No problem. I’ll just pull harder.

*tug… tug…  TUG!*

And so the tape, in a final, dramatic release, boings 12 inches worth of 409-drenched poop crumbles in all their goopy glory SMACK across my face.

Boys? Weasels? Monsters? Beasts of the field? Little dudes? You are lucky you are so STINKING WONDERFUL that your poop freckled mommy cannot help but love you.

Ferrets: Nature’s reminder that into every life a little poop must fall.

ETA: It is worth noting that just because you *think* a discarded cereal bowl is too high for a ferret to reach, this is not necessarily the case.

And should said ferret freak out upon discovering himself suddenly drenched in milk, corn flakes, and oat clusters, laughter is a perfectly acceptable response.



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