Corey

Friends had joked to me that I was running a ferret rescue because I had adopted so many fuzzies into my home. I never took it seriously until the day my vet's office called me with a plea. A lady had found a stray ferret wandering around her neighborhood. It was the middle of summer, and she couldn't give it a home because she traveled for work so much. Could I help? Well, how could I not assist a fuzzbutt in distress?

Rayne had gotten off work early that day, so she went to pick up the newcomer. The lady who had rescued him out of the street had given him a bath and said he was so flea-ridden that his little white face turned black with the onslaught of bloodsuckers trying not to drown. Before introducing him to the rest of the brood, we gave him a flea treatment and another bath. Then we kept him in his own pen for a couple of days to be sure he was disease-free.

During his quarantine, he was the picture of gratitude. He simply could not be cuddled or loved enough. Any food was fine by him, any bedding great, any litter box perfect. He exuded joy, as if he knew how dangerous his situation had been. Ferrets are not like dogs and cats - by running loose they can fall prey to, well, dogs and cats. They are also prone to heatstroke in the hot summer - they must be kept in air conditioning. With bad eyesight and a lack of a keen sense of direction, they lose their way easily. And yet, mischievous as two-year-old children, they live to escape their surroundings. By all rights, our Corey is a very lucky lad indeed.

That leaves only one other detail - a name. And I ask, as a child of the 80s.... what would YOU name a lost boy?