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How Much is That Weasel in the Window?

© Pam McInnis

When you've shared your home with ferrets for a while, you get to know the ways of weasels. You learn what you can and can't get away with.

My ferrets have made it clear to me that being forced to stay in their cage 8-10 hours a day just because their humans aren't lucky enough to hit Lotto or smart enough to make millions, and therefore have to go to work, just isn't fair. Their antics have also made it clear that they aren't quite smart enough to be given free run of the house when we're not home.

So over time, we've come to a compromise. I've ferret-proofed an entire room in my house. The only thing in this room is the ferret cage, a bed, some ferret friendly toys, a hamper and the inevitable overflow piles of dirty laundry. Here they wrestle, snooze and dance away the hours I'm at work..

We're quite happy in our little house, my husband, the dog, the five Weazkateers and I. But no paradise is perfect. The thorn in our sides is our neighbors.

Rob and his wife Julie (names changed to protect the not-so-innocent) and their three children have lived in this neighborhood forever. He has a King of The Hill complex, and no amount of pleading, arguing or cursing will ever change his behavior.

Rob's back deck runs parallel to my bedroom. Each morning, all too early, I awaken to the sound of him hacking up phlegm and cursing at someone on his portable phone as he lounges on the deck and drinks his morning Budweiser. The entire family seems to live off of McDonald's, and his children carelessly toss cheeseburger wrappers and unwanted Happy Meal toys into my yard.

During the hottest of summer months, he loses the will to clean up the dog droppings his Rottweiler plants in his yard. The entire block smells like an abandoned kennel before he gets around to doing something about it. He yells at his kids if they step in the land mines, and watches his wife scoop up the messes while he sits in his lounge chair and teaches his parrot to curse.

Yes, my neighbor is a living nightmare.

I can overlook a lot, and have learned to tune out most of Rob's annoying behaviors. But last summer, he did something I'll never forget.

August is an extremely busy time at my work. I arrived home late one day, sweltering in a suit and with feet that throbbed from a day spent in heels. Tired, hot and cranky, I wanted nothing more than to get to my air-conditioned home and cuddle a ferret or two.