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but no special attention otherwise. But I was okay with that. I had a pair of ferrets that got along very well together, my husband loved them, and I had someone to share poop duty with. Life was good.

Fast forward about a month............

Having met my husband for dinner one day, we were driving along in separate vehicles. My husband "nextel's" me to inform me that we're going to be driving past Petco. I explained to him that I had just been there recently to purchase supplies for the boys and they didn't need anything at the moment. He says, "Yeah, I know, but I think they may have a new shipment of kits in!" I thought he was joking for sure. I said, "Dear, I don't think we need a third ferret. Ramsey and Dook are just fine!" I mean, this is the guy that didn't want them to begin with, right? He says, "Yeah, but it doesn't hurt to look, does it?" So after going back and forth for a few minutes, I caved in and I found myself in Petco again. Peering through the glass at the babies that had been shipped in, we noticed one dark colored ferret that seemed a little larger than the others. My husband and I asked about him because we just didn't think he fit in with the other little ones scurrying all over the place. We found out that someone had purchased him, kept him for a short time and then returned him. According to the associate, the owner had said that they couldn't handle him. We decided to bring him home. We're patient people and maybe that's all he needed. We named him Milo. To this day, I'm convinced that Milo was not the problem in his previous home. My husband and I both believe that he may have been abused. For the first month, he wanted nothing to do with us. He would eat, drink, and sleep. He didn't like to be held, and although he didn't play actively with the other two boys, he didn't move when they curled up to sleep with him and there didn't seem to be an issue. We decided he had a home for good.

About a month after bringing Milo home, my husband and I sat down and a discussion started about potentially bringing home a fourth ferret. (Here's where ferret math comes in.) Three is an odd number and Ramsey and Dook always played together. Maybe Milo needed a playmate of his own. So this time, we both decided to go to Petco for a ferret for the last time. Upon sight of the kits in the store, I got that butterfly feeling in my stomach at the prospect of bringing home another fuzzy "child". The associate opened the door for us and I reached in

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