Knight Before Christmas
By Holly Layman. Originally published in Vol. 11, #5 of the American Ferret Report.  Reprinted with permission of the author.

When I heard about a “Photo with Santa” session in December to benefit a local animal shelter, I bundled my ferret Knight in Shining Armor in a carrier and off we went.  By the time we got to Petco, Santa was looking grim.  The photographer had run out of film and was off buying more, dogs and their owners were everywhere, leaping and cavorting, baying and barking, yowling and yapping.

I secured a relatively quiet area on a table, and thinking it best to try to acclimate Knight Knight to the surroundings, opening the carrier.  Out he sprang, excited rather than frightened by the raucous activity.  We soon had a crowd around us as Knight Knight made certain he was noticed.  It’s hard to ignore a rather large, dark-eyed white ferret sitting on someone’s head.  Typical questions were fired at me:

            “Is that a ferret?”  “Yes.”

            “Can I hold him?”  “No.”

            “Why is he sitting on your head?”  “Because he wants to.”

            “How do you get him down?”  “I wish I knew.”

            “When he gets down, can I hold him?”  “No.”

Meanwhile, repeated attempts to dislodge him were in vain as Knight Knight remained firmly plastered to my scalp like a bizarre, ill-fitting toupee.

With relief I saw Santa’s helper return with the film, and all the holiday hounds jockeyed and jostled for the right to be the first to join Santa in front of the camera.  No longer the center of attention, Knight Knight deigned to allow me to remove him from my head and to survey the scene from my arms.

Eventually it was Knight Knight’s turn with the fat, jolly, and by now sweaty one.  I frowned at Santa.  “You’d better take off those leather gloves.  He likes leather.  To munch.”  “Oh, no, they’re part of the look!” Santa snorted with distain.

With trepidation, I passed Knight Knight into Santa’s impatient, leather-ensconced hands.  Knight Knight sniffed the air, and his eyes widened with glee.  He squirmed in Santa’s hands as he sought the source of that delightful aroma.  It seemed to envelop him like a cloud, and he was in heaven.  Almost.  If only he could taste it…

He lunged to the left, wriggled to the right, and freed himself enough to sink his teeth into the fingertip of Santa’s glove.  He hissed, bucked, and shook his head with a vehemence any terrier would be proud to call his own.  Santa shrieked, and an ear-splitting shriek it was.  Startled, Knight Knight released his prize and dove into the first safe, dark hole he saw, which just happened to be Santa’s sleeve.  Santa began to dance a merry jig, but rather than chuckling, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” was squealing “Ooh!  Ooh!  Ooh!” as Knight Knight made a spirited dash up the sleeve to Santa’s armpit.  Unwilling to follow Knight Knight into that abyss, I grabbed a squeaky toy off the rack and squeaked it for all it was worth while calling to Knight.  Nonchalantly, he emerged, none the worse for wear.

By now, Santa had developed a healthy respect for my darling, and snarled to the photographer, “Let’s get this over with!”  He grabbed Knight Knight under his front legs, dangled him at arm’s length, unceremoniously dumped him back in my arms after the photo was snapped, and stalked off.

Knight Knight was in the open carrier so he could pop in and out to his heart’s delight while we waited for the Ploaroid to develop.  I sighed with disappointment at the final result:  Knight Knight’s coat and Santa’s beard were one large field of white and all that stood out were two fiendish black eyes floating above two black leather gloves.

On the ride home I said, “Well, Knight Knight, this certainly wasn’t’ a very productive trip, was it?”  On cue, a wild sqeaking came from the carrier.  Terrified that something was seriously wrong, I pulled over and flung open the carrier.  From under the blankets, Knight Knight arose, proudly clutching a large, furry, squeaky, bone-shaped toy—the same one I used to entice him from Santa’s armpit.  Maybe he viewed it as a beacon calling him back to safety from that hell, maybe he just liked it.  Either way, it was now his and he refused to part with it.

This Bone of Contention is now a permanent fixture in his cage, and he squeaks it whenever he’s particularly annoyed with me.  Although Petco dismissed the picture-taking ordeal as amusing, I fully expect to see Knight Knight on America’s Most Wanted, with myself as his accomplice.

Knight Knight has been known to frequent ferret shows, and you’re welcome to stop by and meet him.  Just, please, don’t wear leather.