Fear, Ferret, and Funny

Ah-h-h-h!” screamed Melissa, leaping onto the sectional sofa, popcorn flying up in the air. “Ah-h-h-h-h-h-h!” Turning, I saw a ferret, a domesticated form of the European polecat, streak across the carpet and disappear under the ottoman in the adjoining sunroom. Quickly closing the glass door, I pondered a course of action; this was difficult, though, since Melissa was still yelling, jumping, and sending popcorn flying. “Two weeks ago, a fat raccoon under the wheelbarrow. Last week a possum asleep on the clothes dryer in the garage. Today a . . . ”

“Ferret,” I said, intending to explain that the name means “little thief” and that the Romans used them for hunting. But the mayhem was deafening and too distracting. “Melissa, be still. You may go to your room and jump and scream and be part of the problem, or you can fetch the long-handled broom from the shed and be part of the solution. It’s your choice.”

Blessed quietness, momentarily. In a flash, she was back. Broom in hand, I stepped into the sunroom and, giving the ottoman a wide berth, opened the outside door. Back on the other side, I banged the broom purposefully on the floor before shoving the long handle under the ottoman. Voilà! The ferret streaked through the open door and disappeared into the woods.

“It’s my fault,” said Melissa contritely, pointing at the front door, still gaping ajar.

“It happens,” I said. “What could you do another time to get a positive outcome?”

“Close and latch the door,” she replied shakily. “I’ll vacuum up the popcorn. Sorry I screamed. How could you be so calm? All I saw was a creature I didn’t even recognize!”

“The calmer you are, the better your brain problem-solves,” I said. I acknowledged being grateful there was only one ferret and not a whole “business,” and then I knew how to proceed. “Thank you for fetching the broom. Keeping ferrets as pets in this state is illegal, so I bet this one used to be a pet and either ran away or its owners just set it free.” In truth, I never intended to laugh. But remembering how funny Melissa had looked jumping, popcorn flying everywhere, screaming her head off, I started to chuckle. Before long, both of us were doubled over with mirth, tears of laughter running down our cheeks. Another memory to savor as the years go by.

Can you “be still”? You can have peace even in the midst of chaos.

Arlene R. Taylor