His name’s Frank. :) He’s just your average sable ferret. I bought supplies for him first, which is good because it took a while to assemble his cage. Todd helped when he came home for lunch. We then hit up the pet store again and he helped me pick ol’ Frank out. I chose him because he seemed fairly active, he chewed on me but it didn’t hurt, and he looked healthy. He’s got some poo on his back, though, so the fellow will be getting a bath today. I read you’re supposed to bathe them maybe twice a year; hopefully he enjoys baths. I’ve got to work on ferret-proofing the house today. It won’t be bad except for in the kitchen, where I figure I’ll tape cardboard around the entrance to behind the fridge, places like that. I just so happen to have a huge cardboard box in which Frank’s cage came, how convenient. I took a couple of photos, one of his cage and the other of Frank asleep; I’ll get another few shots of him when he wakes up and I’m playing with him. I also put up some nifty photos of Dr. Zoidberg changing shells; who knew they looked that creepy underneath? Now to submit those photos to the Naked Hermit Crabs Flickr group (what a name)…

I wonder if there’s some kind of post-I-just-bought-a-pet depression, kind of like postpartem depression. If there was, I’d be a classic case. Every time I’ve bought a pet, from Charlie the dachshund to Maggie the cat to Dr. Zoidberg the crab to Ricky Bobby the crab, I have freaked out later. I do the same thing when I’ve decided to buy a pet but haven’t gotten it yet, too, such as last night. I was kept awake for a long time, worrying pointlessly. I don’t even know what I’m worrying about half the time. With the dog, it was 1) would I be able to housebreak him, 2) could I keep him quiet, 3) what if he gets sick, could I afford vet costs, and 4) would he destroy my stuff. With the cat, it was pretty much 1) what if my landlady disapproves (more on this in a minute), 2) would she destroy my stuff, and 3) would it keep me up at night. About my landlady disapproving: when I first moved in, she said dogs and cats were allowed. After I got the dog, she said she couldn’t have any more dogs unless they were quiet. I was worried about the cat because I thought she might rescind her word again. With the crabs, I don’t know what I was worrying about. It’s not like they make noise or anything. Noise is really my biggest problem with house pets, because I don’t like to be bothered, especially when trying to sleep. Both the cat and the dog were loud, the dog because he yowled all the time, the cat because it meowed constantly. The crabs don’t make any noise; they’re just fine. I’ve heard from everyone that ferrets don’t make noise either, and so far Frank has only rustled his bedding.

So anyway, when I get a pet, I worry. If I stop and think about what I’m worrying about, I have a hard time pinpointing it. Todd said it was probably buyer’s remorse. There are a few less worries concerning Frank: 1) I checked it with my landlord and he’s fine with ferrets, 2) the cage and ferret supplies fit fine in my tiny apartment, 3) Frank seems quiet, and 4) I’ve slept in the same room as rustly animals before (hamster, gerbils). As for that lovely ferret smell, haha, I can keep his cage clean and he smells all right himself, since he’s been de-scented. Taking a walk earlier made me feel better, as well as talking to Bentley, Victor, and Todd online. Those poor saps are all at work! No spring break for them.