Why, oh why, do I go to Scamps?
Well, it's in the mall by my house. And I just can't seem to pass up any chance to see ferrets. (Maybe I am mentally ill, like Rudy Giuliani says. Don't know about Rudy and his hatred of ferrets? Check it out
here.)
Anyhow, to get back to Scamps. I went in there, and I saw that the ferrets had no food. These were young ferrets. (At least they weren't the babies that Scamps had during Christmas, but that's another rant.) If anyone needs a steady supply of food, it's a young ferret.
So I went to the nearest employee and told them.
"It's OK, we feed them in the morning," he said.
"A ferrets' digestion process is only three or four hours long. They need food all the time," I said.
"Well, if we feed these guys all the time, they gorge themselves and get distended bellies. So we only feed them once a day to protect them."
...
"Don't worry, it's OK. I've dealt with ferrets for many years now."
Um, yeah. Thanks. I feel better. Oh, no, wait... that was a brain hemorrhage. I have to go before I either fall down or accidentally punch you. Take care.
Actually, I just stood there while he walked away. For a minute or two, I wondered if I could somehow sneak some food into their bowl while the guy wasn't looking. But there were chains and a padlock on the cage. Perhaps too many people were gorging his ferrets and making them dangerously bloated, much like Monty Python's
Mr. Creosote.
Instead, I came here and wrote a blog post. Then I waited a day so it wouldn't sound too vitriolic.
I swear, I wish I could educate the whole pet-selling world about the special needs of ferrets. I wish I could tell everyone everything that they would need to know about these fuzzy guys. I'll work on it.
Disapproving Weasel disapproves of Mondays!
