Fuffles the Ferret

By Ronald Schneider

Back in 1935 when 7-year-old Harold Samuels got Fuffles, few if any people kept ferrets as pets. Fewer even knew what a ferret was, including Harold, who when his father surprised him with Fuffles thought he was a weasel. Despite the mistake, Harold was immediately captivated by the small, cute, cuddly creature. He couldn't take his eyes off

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald Schneider
• Release date: Apr 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999337721

Ronald Schneider

Ronald Schneider has always been something of a dreamer. After graduating from college, Ron mentioned to a friend he wished he were talented enough to write novels. His friend's reply was, "Schneider, writing might be socially acceptable, but it's not very remunerative." And so rather than writing, he embarked on a legal career in New York City. In the middle of his legal career Ron got the acting bug, but it was impossible to pursue an acting career while practicing law, and when it finally dawned on Ron that his vision of one day walking down the red carpet in Hollywood to pick up his Oscar for best actor was a pipe dream, he replaced the monologues for a keyboard, and in his spare time he has written four screenplays: Crosswired, in the Woody Allen vein, about the misfortunes that befall a lawyer in his quest to find the right woman; Oy Vay/Oh My Papa, about a father's plans to have a sex change operation and the effect it has on his dysfunctional family; Ockham's Razor, about the development of a room temperature superconductor, Chinese industrial espionage, a flux bomb, murder and ricin poisoning; and Felix the Ferret, about a ferret that is stolen for medical research by two Rastapharians who trip over themselves trying to recapture him after he escapes. Ron thought that Felix the Ferret would make a very funny movie for the whole family, but he could not interest anyone in Hollywood in the project. In an effort to generate some buzz about it, Ron decided to write the book adaptation of Felix the Ferret, but when it came time to getting started, he realized it would be better if he first created and wrote the backstory to Felix the Ferret, and Fuffles the Ferret is the first part of that backstory.

Book preview

Chapter One

Harold got his first ferret when he was seven years old.

For years Harold had been nagging his parents, Luke and Bea Samuels, for a dog. But whenever he asked, the answer was always the same: No. By the time most children reach the age of seven they’ve learned that No means No. It doesn’t mean Maybe or We’ll see or We’ll think about it. It means No. Harold was persistent though. He would not take No for an answer. And no matter how many Nos he got, Harold would continue to pester and badger his parents about getting him a dog.

Harold even promised his parents that if they got him a dog, he would clean up his room and keep it neat from then on. For Harold it was a big deal. It was also a big deal for his parents. His room was so messy you could not find anything in it: Unmade bed. Clothes on the floor. Cluttered closet. Nothing where it should be. You couldn’t even walk into his room without tripping over something. But his parents weren’t going to bribe or beg Harold to do what he was supposed to do. And they weren’t going to be fooled. They knew better. It had happened too many times before. Harold would promise to clean up his room and not do it. He might have meant to clean it up. It’s just that there was always some distraction or some other reason for Harold not to clean his room. Like most boys his age, Harold would rather do almost anything than clean his room. Once Luke got so mad at Harold he threw all his stuff in his bedroom out of the house.

Maybe if Harold had a brother or sister or if there were more children his age where he lived to play with, he wouldn’t have longed so much for a dog. And then there was always the nettlesome question from his mother, And if we got you a dog, who’s going to take care of it?

Harold would, of course. He’d do everything. He’d walk him. Feed him. Take good care of him. His parents wouldn’t have to do anything.

And what if the dog messes up in the house? Who’s going to clean up after him? Did Harold expect his parents to do it?

No. Harold didn’t expect it. He would do it himself he assured his parents. But Harold had never taken care of a dog before. He didn’t know what it was like. How much work it was to clean up after a dog does its business in the house. He was still too young and irresponsible to take care of a dog all by himself. And how did Harold expect to take care of a dog if he couldn’t even keep his room clean? It’s different, he’d say.

How is it different? he’d be asked.

Harold couldn’t understand why his parents would ask him that question. Didn’t they know? They were supposed to be smarter than him. The answer was simple and obvious. Because he’d be mine, Harold said, hoping it’d be the end of the discussion, but he was wrong.

What about all the stuff in your bedroom. Whose is that?

Harold didn’t have an immediate answer. He didn’t know how to reply to the question. He had to think. And while he thought, his parents just stood there, without uttering another word, waiting for his response. His parents had patience. They had experience and practice waiting. Harold didn’t. His parents didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. All they had to do was wait. But to Harold, the silence and knowledge his parents were waiting for an answer, expected an answer, was unnerving. And the longer the silence, the more uneasy he became. Harold could sense the pressure building to say something, anything. He could even feel it. But what more was there to say? He was not prepared for this. And while thinking of something to say, he began fidgeting with his hands and feet. He had to say something, anything, but what?

Finally, his father broke the silence. Well? he asked Harold, indicating he expected an answer from Harold.

Harold was like an inflated toy balloon that has been punctured by a large sharp object. You could hear the sigh as all the air came hissing and whooshing out of him. I don’t know, Harold muttered, looking down at his feet. He felt very dispirited and deflated. It looked as if he was never going to get a dog. He so wanted a dog.

His parents saw the disappointment on Harold’s face, but they knew that if they got Harold the dog, it would just be more work for them, and they already had enough on their minds as it was. None of which they bothered discussing with Harold. He was too young to understand, and even if he did, what could he do and why burden him with their worries and concerns? He’d soon have his own when he grew up. And because Harold knew nothing of this he persisted in nagging his parents for a dog.

It’s not fair, Harold told his mother.

What’s not fair? his mother asked him.

Daddy had a dog when he was growing up, Harold told her.

That was different, she told him. But Harold didn’t see how it was different. Why could his father have a dog and he couldn’t?

For one thing, she told him, your father was older when he got a dog. For another, he had brothers and sisters who could help with the dog, so his parents didn’t have to do anything. With us it’d be different. His mother had an answer for everything. And who was supposed to take care of the dog when Harold was at school? Did Harold expect his mother to do it?

Harold loved school. He was only in second grade but he already knew he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. He also loved animals and the people in the neighborhood knew of it. They were always bringing him injured birds, sometimes squirrels and once even a woodchuck to try to nurse back to health. He couldn’t bring them into the house though. His mother wouldn’t allow it. She didn’t dislike animals. It’s just that she felt that animals didn’t belong in the house. They were filthy and dirty, they smelled and they brought germs and diseases with them. As a result, he had to keep them in cages his father built for him in the crawl space underneath their house, which they used for storage.

All of the homes where his mother did the cleaning had basements, but not where they lived. In their neighborhood, many homes didn’t even have crawl spaces. If there was any chance of the animals in the crawl space getting in the house, his mother wouldn’t have even let him keep them in the crawl space. There was no chance of that happening though. The entrance was around the outside of the house.

No. Harold didn’t expect his mother to do it. She already had enough work to do. There was the cooking and all the cleaning to do in their own house. And then to earn extra money, there was the laundry she took in from the neighbors and the cleaning she did for the people who lived in the big houses up on the hill. Besides, she wasn’t a well person. She was always sick. There was always something wrong with her. When she was a child she had scarlet fever. It was before they had antibiotics like penicillin to treat the disease. It was a very contagious disease and many children died from it. Those that survived had compromised immune systems which made them more susceptible to catching colds and getting other illnesses. It also made her weak. She never had much energy and would get tired very quickly.

A lot of people left their dogs alone in the house the whole day, but if he couldn’t, the dog could stay outside when he wasn’t home. They could build a fence for it in the backyard. And if it rains or snows or when it gets cold outside? They could keep the dog in the crawl space until they got home. Or they could build a dog house for it.

Harold wanted a dog so much he even promised his parents he would never ask them for anything else – ever. But that would have required a miracle, and miracles were outlawed in the Samuels household.

Besides, having a dog was an expense they could ill afford. Who was going to pay for the dog’s food? And when the dog got sick and had to go to the doctor, who was going to pay the doctor’s bills? Harold would. He would get a job after school and on weekends. Doing what? Harold didn’t know, but he would think of something. But even if he did, it wouldn’t be enough to pay for everything. And if Harold couldn’t pay for it, where was the money going to come from? Harold’s parents had no money to spare. As it was, just seeing they had a roof over their heads and enough food to eat was a struggle for them.

His father used to be a highly skilled machinist. He worked at the Everton Tool and Die Works. It was the biggest employer in Everton, Ohio, a town of 18,000, located an hour’s drive from Toledo, Ohio. Toledo was an industrial city on the banks of Lake Erie. But then during the Great Depression in the mid-1930s, the factory closed, and Luke Samuels like all the other employees at the factory found himself out of work and on the unemployment line, with little prospect of finding another job. For a while they survived on handouts from the local church. And after they lost their house, a kind neighbor let them move into a spare room. It was very cramped for the three of them to live in one room. But it was better than living outside in a makeshift shelter, which many who had lost their homes and were even less fortunate than them had to do.

Finally, Luke was able to get a job with the Works Progress Administration doing highway construction. The Works Progress Administration was a government program started during the depths of the Great Depression to put the unemployed to work on public works projects. The work was hard, the hours long and the pay was not nearly as much as he used to make as a machinist. But it was better than being unemployed and doing nothing. After Luke got a job, they were able to rent a small house. It was not like the place they used to live in, but at least Harold now had his own bedroom.

Chapter Two

One night when Luke came home from work he had something extra with him. Besides his lunch pail, he had a sealed cardboard box. The box was tied with strong string and had small jagged holes on all four sides. The holes looked as if they had been made with a screwdriver or a dull knife that had been driven through the cardboard and then rotated to enlarge the opening.

Luke was a big man and the box wasn’t that heavy, but it was very awkward having to carry the box in both hands along with the lunch pail. After putting the box down on the floor by the front door and the lunch pail on a small table next to the door, he closed the door and then called out, Hey, everybody, I’m home.

I’m washing my hair, Bea called out from the bathroom, adding, We couldn’t wait any longer and had to eat without you. It was normal for the three of them to have their dinner together.

Sorry for that, he replied.

Everything okay? she asked.

Yeah. I had to stop to pick up something on the way home. Smells good, Luke replied. I’m so hungry I can eat a cow, he added.

Instead of a cow, how about cabbage stew with kielbasa? Bea asked. Kielbasa was Polish sausage. I put a lot of garlic in, the way you like it. Think you can find your way to the kitchen? She was a good cook. Harold loved her cooking, especially her stuffed cabbage and paczki. Paczki are Polish donuts that are served at holiday times and on other special occasions. They’re similar to jelly donuts, but they’re much richer and more flavorful than plain jelly donuts on account of the different kind of dough that’s used to make them and the drop of rum or brandy that’s added to the donut batter.

You know I never have a problem when there’s food involved. Where’s Harold?

He’s in his room. Harold, your father’s home. Didn’t you hear him calling?

Harold was sitting cross-legged on his bed, absorbed in doing his arithmetic. It was one of his favorite subjects. I’m doing my homework, he shouted.

Harold, I have something I want to show you, Luke said matter-of-factly.

Can’t it wait? Harold asked. He couldn’t imagine what was so important his father would ask him to breakaway from his schoolwork. His parents had repeatedly stressed to him that schoolwork came before anything. It was important he did well in school, which wasn’t a problem for him anyway. His parents never had the opportunity to go to college. It was their hope that, even though he had a long ways to go, if he continued to do well in school, he might be able to get a scholarship to a good college and make something better of himself using his brains instead of his hands.

It won’t take long, Luke replied.

Oh, okay, if you say so. Harold was reluctant to breakaway from his homework, but if his father had something to show him that couldn’t wait it must be important. He put the notebook aside, jumped off his bed and then went out to see what his father had to show him.

Luke didn’t have long to wait before Harold came walking into the room with a quizzical look on his face. As soon as Harold saw his father standing in the middle of the living room waiting for him, he asked, What did you want to show me?

Luke found it difficult to maintain a straight face. Don’t I get a hug? he asked.

Harold was always happy to see his father, but like most young children, he didn’t have much patience, and now that his father had whetted his interest, he was eager to know what it was. He hadn’t noticed the box by the door yet. Harold went over to hug his father while his father ran his hand through his hair. So what did you learn in school today? he asked Harold.

Daddy! Harold exclaimed, a note of irritation in his voice.

Luke could tell that Harold was becoming impatient. It’s in the box by the door, he told Harold.

What’s in the box? Harold asked.

Go and see, Luke said.

Harold did as his father suggested. He went over to the box and laid down on the floor to try to see what was in it, but as he was about to peer into one of the holes he was immediately overcome by a bad stench coming from the box. It was worse than someone passing gas in his face. PHOOOOH, he exclaimed, jumping off the floor with a look of disgust on his face as he tried to clear away the smell with his hands by rapidly moving them back and forth in front of him like a pair of windshield wipers. Did it do his business? Is that what it’s from? he asked.

No. He’s probably just agitated and frightened. The smell should go away once he calms down and gets used to you, Luke told him.

Despite the smell, Harold’s curiosity got the better of him and he again laid down on the floor to see what was in the box. Hope so, he said. Peering into the hole all he saw was a pair of black eyes staring back at him. Then whatever it was that was in the box started whimpering.

Is it a puppy? Is that what it is? Harold asked, hopefully and excitedly.

Open the box and see…but be careful when you do, Luke told him.

Why? It’s not a puppy? Harold asked, now with a note of concern and doubt in his voice.

Just open the box and see, Luke told him, walking over to watch Harold open the box.

The whimpering stopped as soon as Harold began trying to untie the two knots. Like everything he did, Harold went about it with purpose and perseverance, but no matter how hard he tried, his fingers weren’t strong enough. Luke saw Harold struggling to untie the string, but he knew that Harold liked to do things himself, and that unless he asked for help, he would let him try to do it himself. But finally he had to look up at his father. I can’t.

Harold watched his father untie the two knots, and then even before his father had finished saying, Okay, now it’s all yours, Harold had pulled back the four flaps. Inside was a sable-colored animal of mixed hues that had a face with a white mask like a raccoon’s but with a long thin body and tail.

The animal now began squealing. What is it? Some kind of otter? He had read about otters in books but he had never seen a live one, so he couldn’t be sure if it even looked like an otter, but an otter