A few years ago, I decided to get a high-tech watch. It had a bunch of health features, including some way to monitor emotions, especially excitement and stress. If I laughed too hard, it would buzz at me. Bzzzt bzzzt! And then it would ask, “How are you feeling?” When dealing with something stressful at work: bzzzt bzzzt! When playing Beat Saber: bzzzt bzzzt!

Each time, it wanted me to select from a list of options for how I was feeling. Over time, it became pretty attuned to me. It also offered recommendations such as take a break and remember to breathe.

One day, a particularly exciting thing came up.  Kevin and I had been talking about getting a third ferret — perhaps a baby or perhaps a rescue. Then we learned that one of Sophie’s littermates – Lily – had to be given up by her owner. Lily ended up in a shelter for about 4 months (where she escaped twice), and then back at the breeder’s house (where Lily managed to get up into the ceiling at least once).  We were given the opportunity to adopt her if we were willing to make the 14-hour drive.

No problem!

I was talking with my dad about this, and he marveled that we would make such a drive. He should know me well enough by now, but I shrugged that off.  Then he was trying to say we should wait to go get her.  I reassured him that we were waiting. There was a blizzard, so we couldn’t go yet.  However, we would have a window of time between blizzards where we could travel down, scoop her up and get back home before the next one hit.

“No, ” he said, “I think you should wait a couple months, until spring.”

“Bzzzt bzzzt!” said my watch. “How are you feeling?”

“We can’t just leave her in limbo for months,” I explained. That thought alone was distressing.

“Breathe” said my watch. I inhaled deeply.

The ferret won’t know the difference, my dad explained.

“Take a break,” said my watch.

“Dad, I gotta go,” I said, and then continued packing. For the record, we made the trip just fine.

Eventually, I stopped wearing that watch. With each app update, it became increasingly less functional. However, I did wear it long enough to become aware of stressors, even those I thought I was handling without problem. Outward stoicism doesn’t always translate to internal calm. I also learned to breathe, take breaks, and maybe just don’t tell anyone when I’m planning to do something extra adventurous.

Two brown ferrets sleeping

Sophie and Lily July 2023

 

This morning, Brigid was upset because our rental’s HOA was taking a small chain saw to trim trees and bushes around our patio. Loud! Then one guy even dared to step through the gate onto our patio, which had Brigid’s fur poofed out in response.  She became even more agitated when she saw chunks of the shrubbery fall to the ground.   

Time to exit that part of the house.  Perhaps the reading nook would be a more relaxing place for her right now. She still looks rather intense, and seems to be accusing me of something.

sable ferret on rocking chair by book shelves

My friend recently reminded me of this moment (circa 2018), and I love revisiting this video. Helen came up to me, asking to get into the shower. She was covered in styrofoam and wanted to wash off. This video is me figuring out, in real time, exactly how that happened.

Lesson learned! Don’t start to open a box with packing material in it and then walk away for even a moment. Helen had dug a tunnel through the foam in the box. Luckily she didn’t ingest any of it!

April 18, 2025.  How about a non-blurry photo of an awake Lily for today’s ferret fix? Except when she’s receiving scritches, Lily has two speeds: sleeping and zooming.  Sometimes I can get her to pause mid-zoom long enough to get a picture. For every picture like this, there are about 50 or so blurry ones.   Small brown ferret with white and brown mask looking up at the camera.

After trimming Elsa’s nails at the vet, I put her in the carrier hammock and said, without thinking, “Stay there a moment.” And she did. She stayed like that, blinking up at me, waiting for me to say “Okay” to signal she could get up now.  Realizing what just happened, I first took a picture and then gave her the okay. Elsa was not a very ferret-like ferret in so many ways. This picture is likely from 2016 or 2017.

A white ferret laying on her back on a pink hammock.