I read this article today and it reminded me of the guy I was dating when I met C. Towards the end of our courtship this guy acquired two ferrets, Bianca and George. He invited me over to meet the critters, who lived in an elaborate cage in his bedroom closet. I sat down on his bed, trying to be all cute and cool, rocking some very tight bell bottom jeans (it was 1999, in my defense) and my favorite knee-high boots. I was so excited to show him that I wasn't some silly girly-girl, that I could hang with his exotic, stinky pets. As soon as he opened the cage Bianca ran right up to me, sniffed my boot, and scurried up my pant leg. I repeat. The little rat imposter ran up my pants. And stopped at my knee. Where she got stuck. At this point we were both at a loss, since I sure as shit wasn't taking my pants off and he was opposed to my hitting her in the head until she backed out. It seriously took him about ten minutes to coax her out, during which time I had decided that I would not be going anywhere near Bianca and George ever again. Never ever ever.
A week later I met C, who didn't have a ferret. And the rest is history.
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