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There's A Weasel in Your Pants!

© Pam McInnis

Pet owners everywhere know that going on vacation can become a huge adventure before they’ve even packed a suitcase. Finding a pet sitter or making arrangements for your friend to travel with you can often be a challenge.

For ferret owners, things often get even more interesting. It seems like there’s always someone willing to walk the dog, feed the cat, check on the goldfish or water the plants. But when you ask someone to take care of your ferret, they often look at you as if you’re insane.

The reality is that ferrets require a different kind of care than many other pets. These intense little mischief makers need a special person to provide for them in their owners absence.

Lucky for me, my grandparents fell in love with my ferrets almost from the moment I brought my first one home. So when my husband and I decided to take a short camping trip last year, I asked if they’d be willing to ferret sit.

Knowing that ferret care isn’t something anyone should go into blindly and wanting to make sure that both my gang and my grandparents would have a good experience, I planned way ahead. I had my grandparents over to spend time with the ferrets, and went over the rituals of feeding, playtime and pooping. I had them handle the ferrets quite a bit, and they seemed excited about the task. Likewise, the weasels seemed to enjoy time with “Grandma and Grandpa.”

I was quite confident as my husband and I set off on our trip. We met my parents at their cabin in Pennsylvania, and embarked on a few days of hiking, fishing and lazing around campfires. Each evening I called my grandparents to check on the gang, to learn that they were fine. Grandma was amazed at the way they’d leap around the bed, bouncing and “clucking,” as she said, when she let them out for playtime. My grandparents were delighted by my little guys and admitted to enjoying their antics much more than television.

The evening before we were supposed to head home found us gathered around a fire, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs. Although it was relatively early, the sky was a velvet black blanket dotted with brilliant stars. The night was crisp and clear, and the fire crackled merrily before us. It was the perfect end to a perfect trip.

Then the phone rang.

Not too many people have my parents’ number at the cabin, so Dad rose rather hastily and made his way to the phone. I could see him through the window as he talked to the person on the other end. His face seemed to bounce between a concerned look and a lopsided grin, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Seeing me watching him, he beckoned for me to come inside. When I was indoors, he held the phone out to me.

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