Friday, September 3, 2010

Sometimes the Cuteness can kill you

Rudyard is very precious to me, but that doesn't mean I will allow him to let me bleed. He scruffed me for the first time yesterday and tried to take me somewhere. It was pretty painful. Usually Sam gets scruffed, with little pinpoint needles almost breaking skin; usually Sam is the one who is "dragged" to a stash spot. Yesterday, it was me.

It didn't break my skin, not this time. Ferret teeth are like crab claws I've decided. They are like pit bull jaws too. The more you shake and wriggle, the tighter their grip.  Its like they clamp shut and lock.

You know inside part of your elbow? It's nice and soft and fleshy? That is where he bit me. He's not trying to hurt me; he's either being playful and trying to flip me over or he's attempting to drag me off to his stash because he likes me.

Either way one thing is for sure: ATTENTION!

Rudyard is such a nipper. I'm pretty sure its our fault too; its so damn cute, we have trouble discouraging it. Sam is the worst. I think he's the one who started it. When he heard about "alligator rolls" he would always pretend Rudyard was flipping him over and let Rudyard think he won the fight.

I tried really hard to discourage the nipping and biting. But its hard to get mad at him because... well, because he looks at you with those enormous black eyes... and he cocks his head to one side... and his mouth is open, and its like he's smiling... and you know he doesn't mean to hurt you, not the littlest bit.

UGH! I'm thankful we got Jack as a non-nipper. Imagine having two cute-patooties nipping at you all the time. How could you stop that? HOW, I ask you??

By the way, September 22: Ferret Edumacational Day at the Liburry. Heck Yes. Guess who the teachers are? Rudyard and Jack. Guess who the handler is going to be? Probably me. Guess who will sit in my lap most of the time? Rudyard. Guess who will be most likely to poop in front of everyone? Jack

OH, POOPING REMINDS ME...
I have trained Jack to use a litter box.
Let me repeat this:
I have TRAINED. Jack. To use the L-I-T-T-E-R B-O-X.
Litter Box. Trained. Jack.
As in, he will ONLY POOP in the litter box when in his cage.


See, here's the thing.
Since Rud was feeling pretty blechity Tuesday and Wednesday from his shots, I went ahead and separated the boys up. Jack lives in the top half of the ferret mansion in the kitchen, Rudyard lives in the spare cage in the living room. This way, I can monitor their poops better and see how much food Rudyard is eating (I know Jack is eating. He's fucking 3.6 pounds!!!!!).

So, smaller space? Why not try poop-in-the-litter box? They always say work on pooping in small spaces before big. Right now, I only have one litter pan. The other is at St. Gregory's episcopal church holding water from a leaky AC. One day, I will get it back. Until then... I shall wait... I guess.

So Jack got the litter pan for now; mostly because he's had Pooping In Proper Places Problems.
At first, he pooped outside of the box. I had to PICK UP THE POOP and put it in the litter pan. Then I put the litter pan back in the corner. Then, when I caught him starting to poop, I had to pick him up and put him in the litter pan. THAT is what did it. Since then, he has understood the art of pooping.

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