Miette

Miette looking for a tasty spot to nip.

To all her fans, I just wanted to let you know that my gorgeous Miette has died last night She started to fail when the heat really hit us a few days ago. For the first few days of the heatwave our air cooler wasn't working properly and while I had her in a cage under a fan, she still had trouble dealing with the heat. Then one by one her little organs started to fail. Her liver gave out two days ago and she slowly turned orange. Her brave little heart was still fighting the good fight but Miette needed to sleep most of the time.

I kept her on my lap on an icepack wrapped in a towel at the hottest part of the day, even after the air cooler was fixed. She seemed to enjoy our time together and would crawl up onto my chest to get closer to me and we'd have a chat and a cuddle. I debated taking her to the vet over and over again, but she didn't seem to be suffering and the only ferret I've ever had to have put down suffered dreadfully when the vet couldn't find a vein in her tiny little legs. It seemed kinder to just let Miette fade away peacefully - which she did. I found her curled up as if asleep this morning.

Miette had a difficult start to her life. She was a rescued ferret who had been maltreated and just about starved by her first owner. Her determination and fighting spirit pulled her through that time and Miette's fighting spirit continued until her last breath. In her later years Miette mellowed considerably and while still ruling the rest of the ferrets with an iron paw, showed the gentler side to her nature more and more. She became totally lovable. I am so sad. I loved the little terror of the ferret world so much. I'm going to miss her dreadfully.

For those of you who haven't read all my Life At Spring Rock stories and don't know who Miette is, I've included the story of when Miette first came to stay here with us.

The Coming of Miette & Albus

I thought I'd tell you all a bit about how I find names for my pets. Miette and Albus are good examples of my methods so I'll tell you about them. Miette and Albus were both rescued ferrets obtained from the NSW Ferret Welfare Society. Miette, my little sable coloured female ferret, was starved during her growing years as she is the tiniest ferret I've ever seen. Albus on the other hand is an albino male and a giant among ferrets. When they arrived here as a Christmas present from my kids, they cringed at their names Umina (Albus) and Twinkle (Miette). If ever there was a less Twinkle like animal it was Miette.

Bec arranged to pick up the ferrets prior to Christmas, from one of the Welfare Society's volunteers who had a house full of rescued ferrets. When the “ferret lady” opened the door to Bec the floor seemed to be full of ferrets all running in mad panic. Behind the hoard of frenzied ferrets was one little ferret skittering along after them. The volunteer smiled at Bec, pointed to the little ferret and said, "That's one of your ferrets."

Just as Bec was beginning to think, "What a little cutie," the "little cutie" managed to catch one of the larger ferrets, wrestle him to the ground, grab him by the neck with her teeth and start to scream as if she was being murdered. The rest of the panicked ferrets were no-where to be seen - obviously hiding somewhere coward and shaking waiting for their turn. The volunteer separated the two ferrets with some difficulty, kept a tight hold on the little one who had immediately assumed the face of an innocent ferret, and looked around for the second ferret assigned to Bec. I imagine Bec was starting to wonder what my life was going to be like with this little critter laying into any other ferret in the place, but Bec knows I'm made of stern stuff and didn't flinch in her resolve to give me two ferrets for Christmas. By this time the volunteer had located an extremely large white ferret and scooped him up from his resting place (from what I know now about Albus I assume he was napping somewhere totally oblivious to the general ferret terror) where he greeted Bec with a huge ferrety yawn.

The volunteer then told Bec that the short, violent one was named Twinkle and the large, placid one was Umina and both were now her's. She must have seen some look of doubt on Bec's face because she explained that they always like to pair ferrets up when they go to new homes so they have a friend and that Twinkle was very difficult to pair up - what with her firm resolve to dominate or exterminate every ferret she met. She always used the same modus operandi - chase the targeted ferret, wrestle to the ground, bite back of neck and scream the building down! The doomed ferret then assumed a totally subjugated position, promised to call Twinkle Boss from now on and with a small gasping ferret equivalent of "Uncle" would squirm free or be freed by a human.

In the interest of preventing confusion I will now refer to Twinkle by her new name, Miette and Umina as Albus. Miette's wicked little plan for world domination was thwarted by Albus. Did he fight back? Use his superior size and strength to turn the tables on the little warlike ferret? Run faster than her??? Nope. Albus simply didn't run so was the first to be caught. As Miette's teeth sank into his neck (she looked rather like a flea holding on for dear life), Albus would give one of his signature yawns, roll over and go to sleep. It was the rolling over that was the real killer. Miette would then find herself pinned underneath this oblivious ferret with no other ferret inclined to come to her aid - funny about that. So she decided that Albus was OK despite his name and they became firm friends. She still terrorised all other ferrets, but Albus had immunity.

The volunteer also promised that Miette came with a money back guarantee not to bite. She'd been put through anti-biting counselling and was considered cured. Yeah right. She is the nippiest little ferret I've ever met. Totally incurable and I've cured quite a few ferrets of biting. In her defence though she doesn't bite to hurt, she just can't resist nipping.

I've wandered from the subject of pets' names haven't I? Sorry I'll get back on the subject now. When they were handed over at Christmas the first thing I decided to do after welcoming them to the menagerie was re-name them. I still had Theodore the ancient ferret. He was the reason I wanted these two (to keep him company in his old age) and I didn't want him sniggering at their names. After a lot of deliberation and wading through on line baby name sites I found Albus meaning white man - perfect for Umina. Then I found the perfect name for Twinkle - Miette - it meant small sweet thing. I was hoping the new name would take effect and she'd turn into a small sweet thing, after all she already had the small part down pat. So Albus and Miette they became.

For those of you who have started to worry about how Theodore coped with this little warlike ferret in the winter of his life ... there was a problem for the first few days. Miette had to sleep in separate quarters because she bullied poor old Theodore mercilessly. Albus was just pleased to have the attention taken off him and caught up on some much needed sleep (making twenty three and a half hours a day in all). I had the ferrets in the house on supervised visits and spent quite a bit of time removing Miette from Theodore's throat. Theodore's old mate, Isabella, was a pretty little grey ferret of peace who loved the world and never uttered a ferrety squeak in anger. He was therefore totally unprepared for this little bundle of spite and teeth. After a couple of days of being rescued Theodore took matters into his own paws. On this fateful day Miette moved in for the kill, Theodore refused to run this time - fine by Miette, all the easier to grab his neck and make his life hell. As she opened her mouth ready to munch some Theodore he did a neat little twist, grabbed Miette by the throat, lifted her off her feet and shook her like a furry little rag doll.

This time Miette's shrill scream was in earnest! I think she thought she was done for and realised it wouldn't be ferret heaven she was heading for either. I sat on the lounge not knowing what to do for the best. Should I intervene and let Miette think she should go back to her evil ways because I wouldn't let any harm come to her or should I sit still and hope Theodore didn't in fact kill her? While I was still debating the matter and Albus had slunk off under the lounge to keep out of the firing line, Theodore dropped her and wandered slowly over to me for a chat, without a look back at her. Theodore climbed up on my lap (a very clever strategy here, Miette couldn't exact revenge immediately). Miette sat on the floor and thought for a while and realised a new day had dawned and she would never again be Boss Ferret. When Theodore finally climbed down onto the floor again she crept up to him and kissed him on his nose. He told her wasn't one to hold a grudge and kissed her nose in return. The three of them became best friends and were inseparable until Theodore's death a few year's later.

Now did you notice the actual bit about pets' names in all that? You didn't!? Maybe you'd better go back and read it again because I promise you it's in there.

Miette Is Going To Live!

Just when I though everything was settling down around here after what has become known as the “Ferret Incident In The Sewing Room”, Miette decided to liven things up. For the past few days she's been coughing delicately (a la Violetta Valéry, in the famous opera La Traviata) and looking interestingly pale – a difficult thing for a chocolate coloured ferret to do. I’ve kept an eye on her, suspecting hypochondria, but being prepared to give aid and sustenance should the need arrive. Yesterday I attempted to combine quilting and ferrets again ("What!" I hear you say, "have you gone totally mad?"). Ahh! but I took precautions this time. I plugged up the gaps between the wall and the back of the cupboard, so yesterday, my quilting/ferret adventure was rather uneventful. Until ... Miette went on the missing list.

If you remember, Miette is a tiny female ferret (Miette means "small, sweet thing” ...sweet? hmmm?), and has much in common with that other height challenged individual, Napoleon Bonaparte, in that she has a quarrelsome outlook on life and is determined to be the boss of everyone. While she was at the Ferret Welfare Society’s Safety House, she managed to become the Alpha ferret simply by grabbing every ferret in sight by the back of the neck, regardless of their sex, size or attitude to her world domination aspirations, and squealing her lungs out. While Napoleon used more subtle tactics in his quest for supremeness like shooting the enemy, Miette’s technique has proved to be a very effective means of gaining dominance over ferrets. So much so that I intend to use exactly the same technique at the earliest opportunity to bring the ferrets into line. I might even try it on Graeme to see if it works on other species - I'll let you know. Hey, it’s got to be preferable to Napoleon’s methods of getting his own way.

Albus too had a very effective strategy to avoid unpleasant ferret incidents (and one I'm definitely going to use regularly!). I can see him now - Miette (known during her time with the N.S.W.F.W.S. as Twinkle - yuck!!) wanders over to Albus (at that time going under the name of Umina), trying to look innocent and not at all interested in dominating him. Suddenly Miette/Twinkle makes her move! She goes for Albus/Umina's neck! And that's when Albus shows his true colours – he rolls on his back (bad luck if Miette is still attached) and goes to sleep. If she was now under him, and she usually was, Miette had to squeeze out as best she could while trying to preserve her dignity and status among the other ferrets. Apparently Miette respects other ferrets who won't take any guff from her and she and Albus became good friends. I'm told all the other ferrets kept a respectful distance.

Her best friend though is Theodore. When she tried her Alpha ferret strategies on him at their first meeting, Theodore was extremely confused. His deceased mate, Isabella had never demonstrated these strange behaviours and until now, Isabella was the only other ferret Theodore had ever known. So poor Theodore spent the first 24 hours either being rescued by me from Miette's clutches or hiding where she couldn't find him (a much less effective strategy). Albus was just pleased that Miette had turned her bullying attention to another poor unsuspecting ferret and kept a low profile - literally. When ever they were inside and she was gunning for Theodore, Albus dropped to the floor and crept around on his belly until the trouble had blown over and he could finally come out and play.

During the second day of the Miette/Theodore siege, Theodore had had enough. He was the oldest ferret by a long way and this member of the new, impudent generation was going to find out what the older generation was made of! Miette approached, full of confidence with fangs specially sharpened and with Theodore's name on every one of them. Theodore stood his ground. Miette went in for the kill and that's when she met her Waterloo and Theodore became her hero. With Miette firmly attached to his throat, Theodore quickly did a sort of double flip somersault with a half pike thingy thrown in for good measure, twisting and turning until Miette was detached. He then sunk his little teeth into her neck, lifted her off the ground, gave her a shake for good measure, dropped her and walked away.

I’d been watching all this, and didn't know what to do for the best. My sympathies lay totally with Theodore, but Miette is such a little thing I was worried for her too. After the Final Battle, as I now like to call it, Miette limped over to me with a very hurt look on her face. Another ferret had actually fought back! That just didn't happen in Miette's world. She sat on my lap for a long while thinking things over and seeing a less appealing, new world dawning. Finally, with a true female sense of fairness, she admitted that she probably had that coming to her and went off to find Theodore. I held my breath (no, not because of the ferret smell - I'm used to that by now) and watched carefully in case someone needed saving. Miette held out the olive branch in the form of a ferret kiss, Theodore said, "No hard feelings," and they have been the best of friends ever since, often sharing a ferret sleeping bag in their cage.

Now I know I’ve rather wandered off the subject of Miette's delicate state of health, but I thought you might enjoy those little snippets of The Gang of Three’s early days. Anyway, back to the subject under discussion. As I was saying, I’ve been keeping an eye on Miette’s health for a while now and when I finally found her yesterday afternoon she was sitting quietly in the lounge room, obviously contemplating her future and not thinking there would be very much of it. She had developed a sneeze that had to be seen and heard to be believed! With each sneeze her entire little body become airborne. Her little head ricocheted right and left, she'd take a sustaining breath, and sneeze all over again. I ran around after her, with the tissues (don't worry I won't go into those gory details) and generally behaved like an over protective mother with one very frail child.

Miette soon realised that her 15 minutes of fame had arrived and she was going to milk it for all it was worth. She lay down on the floor and began planning her funeral, requesting that donations be sent to the N.S.W.F.W.S. in lieu of flowers and mourners should line the street for her funeral cortège. I too was starting to think her end was nigh (I was planning a much less grandiose funeral - a shoe box buried in the back yard if the truth be told) and waffled between putting her out in her cage with the boys and hoping that nature would take its course and she'd get better - to keeping her in a little ferret papoose-type bag (I don't actually have one - but I can sew remember) near my heart. I too can be a drama queen when the situation calls for it.

I finally compromised by bringing the indoor ferret cage into the kitchen and installing Miette and the boys for the night. Now I may have mentioned this before, but there was something sadly lacking in Graeme’s upbringing because he doesn’t like ferrets. I’ve come to accept this defect in his character and love him anyway. We compromise by the ferrets only being inside when Graeme is outside. Bringing them in last night constituted a break down of the original agreement and a re-negotiation of the Ferret Treaty was called for. I'm pleased to announce that we quickly (if not quietly) achieved a peace settlement. The amended clause now reads: “The ferrets may be inside at the same time as Graeme as long as said ferrets are securely contained in the indoor cage. At no time can said ferrets be released from said cage. If Graeme has just ducked outside for something and has given prior notice that he will be returning quickly, the ferrets must remain in their indoor cage regardless of the time it takes Graeme to return to the house.” Imagine what I could achieve for peace on the world stage!

So, the state of the nation was: one very sick little ferret; two very healthy ferrets trying to convince her that the world hadn’t come to an end and it was time to play; one totally disinterested husband and me all of a twitter and expecting every breath to be Miette’s last. I finally climbed into bed sometime after midnight after hovering around the cage trying to get a peek at Miette to make sure that life still flickered in that little body. Miette frustrated my attempts to reassure myself that life still persisted by climbing in between the towels on the bottom of the cage and sleeping out of sight, leaving me to try and determine whether the bump under the towel was still rising and falling with each breath. I went to bed fearing what I’d find in the morning. I woke up the next morning to sounds of Graeme walking around the kitchen. I couldn't hear any happy dances or muffled cheering so I assumed that Miette had survived the night. When I got up I found that not only had she survived the night, she had made a miraculous recovery! There she was running around the cage with the boys, giving as good as she got in the ferret games and stopping occasionally to ask Graeme if he wanted his toes nipped when ever he passed close to her cage (Graeme's toes are the only ones my ferrets nip - I think they know a non-ferret lover when they see one).

To cut a long story short (I know it's too late for that now - but work with me here), I took Miette to the vet's where she assumed a look of total good health and bewilderment as to why she was even there. After my running the gamut of interested pet owners wanting to know all about ferrets and Miette doing her best for Ferret Public Relations, I told the vet the sad tale of the previous day. Although Miette was doing her utmost to make me look a liar, the vet found that she did have a slight temperature (nothing like last night's raging temperature and burning nose!) and pronounced Miette the victim of a secondary bacterial infection brought about by her eating too quickly and having a piece of food go down her windpipe. Miette wants it stated for the record that the vet is confusing her with some other ferret. She, Miette, eats in a very ladylike way at all times and she must object to these slanderous stories being spread about her.

I now have to administer the tiniest amount of antibiotic you have ever seen (0.2 ml) twice a day. This will almost surely involve Graeme because I can't see how I can hold her, open her mouth and squirt half the contents of the smallest syringe you’ve ever seen (maximum capacity 1 ml) down her throat. Don't worry, I have a plan. I’ll hold the ferret, putting myself in jeopardy of connecting with her teeth, and Graeme can have the wussy job of squirting the medicine in the general direction of Miette's mouth. I have complete faith that this plan will work. Well, I'm confident that this should work … All right, then, I'm pretty sure it will work ... O.K., O.K. I hope it will work because I don't have another plan.

Wish me luck!

Ferrets and quilting do not mix

Bec with the Gang of Three. Miette is trying to give her a kiss and Theodore is trying to ignore everyone.

Albus. Ferrets live by the law that whatever is on the other side of a door is better than what's on this side.

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Today I learned a very important lesson. Ferrets and quilting do not; I repeat ... DO NOT mix.
I decided today was the day I’d finish the patchwork wall hanging I’ve been making for a couple of weeks now. It's not a very large wall hanging and I’ve made slow progress with it for one reason or anther. So, as I said, today was the day. Unfortunately, I also decided that today was the day for the ferrets to have a run inside the house. They live in a luxurious ferret cage out the back of the house under an old apricot tree where they lie around all day soaking up the sun or taking advantage of my latest invention, ferret air-conditioning - a wet towel placed in a bucket of water on top of the cage for the breeze to go through and another wet towel laid out in the cage for them to lie on and cool their tummies. This cooling system is definitely a requirement in our extremely hot summers. The ferrets don't get much exercise in the cage, but when they come inside that all changes. They take a minute or two to inspect the house and acclimatise themselves to their new surrounding. They try to open locked doors to get into and out of out of bounds rooms, harass any cat silly enough to stay on the floor, check for burglars behind the wall unit, and then once all these necessary jobs have been completed, they sort of explode with ferret joy. Ferret joy involves ferrets jumping in the air with their mouths wide open while swinging their heads from side to side, landing on all fours, challenging all comers to a ferret duel (I've been involved in a few of these - the ferret nearly always wins) and generally covering as much territory as possible with as much noise as possible.

So today I decided to get the two things accomplished at once. I began by closing all the doors that led off the hall except for the sewing room. I then brought the ferrets inside. Theodore, the ancient male ferret, Miette our small bossy, female and Albus, our large albino male who appears to be manic depressive, were beyond thrilled to be allowed into the sewing room. They began by investigating every nook and cranny they could find - actually they found some crannies I didn't even know the sewing room had!

When three ferrets investigate a room, they split up by mutual consent, investigate their assigned section of the room and then, at some invisible signal, swap over and investigate one of the other ferrets' spots. Trying to keep out of the way, lest they lose their place and have to start over from the beginning, I sat down carefully and began designing the wall hanging's borders. Every now and then Theodore sidled up to me and placed a little paw on my leg. This was his signal for me to pick him up and give him a cuddle – now that he's old he likes to take the time to stop and smell the roses, or in Theodore's case to smell anything within reach (on this occasion - me). Everything was going well: do a bit of sewing, stop. Pull a ferret out of somewhere no ferret should be. Return to sewing, stop, give Theodore a cuddle, do a bit more sewing, stop, pull a ferret out ... well I'm sure you get the picture.

I was coping beautifully and patting myself on the back, when it was time to cut out some more border fabric. This occurred about the same time that the ferret room investigations finished and it was time for them to "do the ferret thing" as we in the ferret world call ferret joy). Let me tell you it’s very hard to cut fabric with three ferrets full of joie-de-vive helping you. I no sooner laid it out on the table, with the excess fabric hanging over the edge when Miette jumped up and pulled it all down on top of herself. Was she sacrificing herself in an effort to save me from choosing the wrong colour? Albus then rushed to check that Miette was still in one piece while Theodore heaved a big sigh, rolled his eyes at the antics of the younger generation, and ask to be picked up and be cuddled again.
This went on for a while with very little getting done quiltwise. I kept trying as hard as I could to get some patchwork done and refused to give in, when, during one of our regular Hug Theodore sessions, I noticed that his coat wasn't as shiny as it should be, and it wasn't just because he was covered in feral threads picked up from the sewing room floor.

Time to worm the ferrets, I thought. I picked Theodore up and snuck out of the room. You have to sneak away if you are leaving ferrets anywhere on the other side of a door. They seem to have a sixth sense about such things and immediately run around your feet as you head for a door. Ferrets live by the philosophy that anywhere else is going to be so much better than where they are at the moment. I got the Ivomec (sheep and ferret drench), loaded a tiny syringe with the liquid and returned to the sewing room where the two unsuspecting ferrets were still trying to rearrange the room. I duly dosed Theodore and Miette then called Albus for his share of the Ivomec. …No answer.

My ferrets can't ignore me calling their name no matter how hard they try. Being the naturally curious animals that they are, they just have to come and see what I want. Just as they believe that anywhere else is much better than where they are, they also believe that when I call them something’s going to happen that's much better than what's happening now. I called a few more times with Theodore and Miette helping me look for Albus. Their help was as useful as their help with cutting out the fabric. I continually ended up with a ferret in my face, licking my forehead or arm, making the search for Albus just that much more difficult. I could almost hear them saying, "There, there. Don't worry, you still have me."

After ten minutes fruitless searching I was really worried. The last ferret I lost in the house was Isabella (Theodore's deceased mate). That resulted in me finding her squashed under the lounge and on her last gasp. I needed to give her CPR to save her. And while I’m always prepared to go to extreme measures to save a pet’s life, giving mouth to mouth to a ferret is not my ideal way to spend an afternoon I assure you. Isabella survived that experience and went on to bigger and better stash building, but she did avoid standing still near any furniture wherever possible.

Anyway, back to today. As stated earlier, I wasn't anxious to re-visit mouth to mouth with a ferret so I began moving all the things in my sewing room (including Justin’s set of drums - don't ask - they're not my idea of necessary sewing room furniture either!). With my back injury I’m not supposed to move heavy things, but I was getting really worried. I think Theodore and Miette were worried too because they became rather quiet, began following me around and not getting in the way, or maybe they were just enjoying the chaos I was creating. It was a lot better than the worst they could do, I promise you. Or maybe they thought it was safer to stick close to avoid an avalanche of Vlisofix, rolls of fabric and boxes of fat quarters (small amounts of pre-cut quilting fabric for the uninitiated)? With this thought of other possible ferret devastation running round in my head, I returned the two present and accounted for ferrets to their cage and went back to my search – alone and unhindered. Finally I heard a very faint scratching sound coming from the direction of the fabric cupboard. I forgot to mention that while I was closing all doors off the hall, I also closed and locked my fabric cupboard, realising the fun The Gang of Three could have amongst metres and metres of folded fabric.

Knowing ferrets as I do, I didn't put it past Albus to find a way into the locked cupboard so I opened it up and began tossing all my folded and colour sorted fabrics over my shoulder. I cleaned out the bottom shelf but no Albus. There was a distinct scratching sound coming from underneath the cupboard though. Underneath is a very small space indeed, so it was possible he was stuck. I tried various sneaky manoeuvres to get Albus to come out, like calling Theodore and Miette while tapping a can of cat food and knocking on the floor of the cupboard in an effort to drive him out or give him a headache. None of my sly ruses worked.

Now I was in full scale panic, and some pain from moving all the heavy stuff. I hobbled as fast as my legs could carry me out to the front paddock to tear Graeme away from helping our contractor clean the wheat seed (no he's not anal retentive! You clean wheat and lupin seed prior to sowing to get rid of weed seeds and the undersized seeds that won't produce strong plants.) As you may have gathered from previous stories, Graeme’s not an animal lover, he's barely an animal tolerater, but with a frantic wife, hopping from one leg to the other and wincing in pain at regular intervals when she landed on a stone, he could hardly stay and watch the seed being cleaned while ignoring the drama unfolding in the sewing room.

Graeme followed me back to the house, making ani-ferret noises all the way, looked behind the cupboard and told me Albus was perfectly capable of getting himself out. I noticed Graeme also look around the sewing room, consider commenting on the wreck of what was once a tidy and organised room, decide it was safer to remain quiet on the subject, and return his disapproving gaze in the direction of where Albus was most probably lying gasping his last few breaths. After a short and pointed dispute on whether or not Albus should be left to his fate, Graeme lifted the stash cupboard while I tried to retrieve the ferret (farmers are very strong people by the way!). Albus, now able to scuttle to freedom, recognised a game when he saw one, and this was so obviously a game. He moved further under the cupboard, causing me to yell, “Don’t put the cupboard down now! You’ll squash Albus!”

It was only after I’d said it that I realised I had most probably offered Graeme a very tempting course of action. More anti-ferret noises issued from Graeme’s general direction while he and I worked co-operatively, me watching Albus' nose to see where he was in relation to the cupboard floor and Graeme lowering the cupboard. After that Graeme decided that the seed cleaning needed his personal attention. As he departed he suggested that I find some food that Albus couldn't refuse to persuade him to leave his cubby hole. Now why didn't I think of that?! I was obviously too traumatised to think clearly. With that Graeme bolted for the paddock and the preferable company of the seed cleaning contractor.

By the time I had returned from the kitchen with the food to tempt him out of his hiding place, Albus was out and running around the sewing room thinking, "Now this is more like it - I've got all these boxes and piles of fabric and such to explore, roll in and chew should the mood take me!" With one painful movement, I scooped him up and headed for the door to return him to his cage. As I passed my sewing table I caught sight of the syringe with Ivomec in it (remember how all this started?). I’m glad to say I got my revenge. From his facial expressions Ivomec tastes dreadful. Albus was duly drenched for worms and mites and returned to his cage. The only problem is that, with Graeme hiding out in the paddock, I can't put everything back where it belongs in the sewing room by myself, and I can't get back to finishing my wall hanging because the mess spreads wall to wall and all over the top of my sewing table.

Oh well, maybe tomorrow?