Hello, I'm Maisy and I'm taking over from Fred. He's ill and what a fuss everyone's making. All those get well cards, designer sleeping bags and Morrisons Mini Festival Gateaux...
Daisy: So am I.
Maisy: So are you what, dear?
Daisy: Taking over from Fred.
Maisy: Wait your turn, duck. You've interrupted my flow. Now, where was I? That's right, what a fuss. I was at death's door and no one cared tuppence...
(It cost £134.76 to repair you - editor) (Oh yeah, that reminds me, you still aren't forgiven for spitting Synulox all over me. No wonder Mummy gave you the cat pill instead of the ferret pill - editor's daughter)
Maisy: Well, anyway. To resume. Our new residence is quite bijou. The estate agents call it 'a sought after Yorkshire Dales village location'. But I'm sorry to say that the neighbours lower the tone. We were detached but now, unfortunately, we adjoin and she's very common. She's hung up an orange and black tiger skin hammock - her taste in faux is so very literal. We chose the grey and black version - very understated, very Victoria Beckham. But what can you expect from an albino?
Daisy: I'm albino.
Maisy: Well, there you are then, dear. What was I saying? Oh yes, and our interior designer copied the decor at Sleaford Ferret Rescue. I have to say that our brief stay there was comfortable enough but the fittings were hardly cutting edge. We've all got simply ghastly net bath scrubs to play with! Too 1960s! Ours is, can you believe it, mauve? Mind you, her next door has landed the shocking pink number. And that dreadful little type Goldi in the next apartment chose powder blue. Seventies retro, or what? I could talk more about scrubbers but I'm too charitable.
Daisy: I like mauve.
Maisy: Nonsense, dear. Mauve is passé, although purple is very Home Front. I myself personally have a fleece recliner in grape, but absolutely no one does mauve.
Daisy: I do.
Maisy: Well, you were a working girl. I expect you can't help it. You always were more Barbie and Ken than South Ken', duck. And her next door gives herself such airs. Just because she's won a few shows. I wouldn't demean myself - beauty contests are such a cattle market.
Daisy: Didn't one judge say you looked like a hot water bottle?
Maisy: I don't recall, dear. Anyway, I'm strictly PR these days.
(No you're not. You still have to pay for those extras you ran up when you boarded at Sleaford. Everyone else got through their two week stay without a personal trainer, Pilates lessons, a Feng Shui course and cappuccino and brioches. I've spoken to a local farmer and booked you in for a week's work - editor)
Maisy: What! I'll freeze me blasted butt off up those b***** Dales.
Daisy: And, how cool is that!
(From Ferrets First - October/November 2002 - #08)