Rehabbing a Biter, Part 2

Little Leeloo has settled in. Yes, we changed her name. She is not sneaky like a Russian spy, as the name "Petra" would lead you to believe. No, her true personality is coming out, and she's more like that superbeing in The Fifth Element than anything else. No guile, all butt-kicking.

Leeloo decided to do a little interior decorating the other day. She pushed everything off the dresser by the window, which included: five bags of ferret food, two pet carriers, a Star Trek cookie jar (with lid), a pair of ferret nail clippers, a basket of plastic eggs, a blanket, and her sister's awards. Fortunately, nothing broke, no thanks to her.

I also took Leeloo over to my friend's house. She runs a foster home for several ferrets, and I help her clean up her cages, along with another volunteer. They were both dying to meet her. She bit both of them. Hard. (To be fair, I did warn them.)

Something tells me that fostering is going to be a little more difficult than I had thought. Sigh.

Rehabbing a Biter

So I've taken on fostering a biter. This poor little girl was a victim of pet store brutality. Her name is Petra, and her story can be read here.

http://www.oregonferretshelter.org/petra.htm

I've had her since Wednesday. Tonight was the first night that I saw her sleep like a real ferret, completely sacked out, flipped onto her back and dead to the world. It's a nice change from her usual hypervigilant self. And during the day, she's actually greeting me at the bars instead of wincing away from them.

However, it ain't all frickin' roses. She's bitten me every day since she got here -- not fear bites, but play bites. I hope she gets the idea soon that I'm not on the menu. I'm about a pint low. On the other hand, I'm a cheaper drunk now.

Wish me luck.