It’s a split-level with pale yellow siding. The double garage has gray doors. There’s even a basketball hoop fixed to a tree next to the driveway. Jake presses a button on a remote, and the garage doors slide up. They must be soundproof. And smellproof. Before they are even open halfway, I hear chittering and scrabbling. And am enveloped in the funky animal smell. I follow him through a warren of cages big and small, some on the floor, others stacked on benches. “Rodents over here.” He waves to his left. “Reptiles on the right. Birds in the back.” “And Mustaelida?” He grins at me. “You’ve got a good memory. Bandit’s over here.” Under the window, a wide cage runs the length of the garage. The ferret nudges up against the mesh, nose poking out, eyes blinking. “See? He remembers you,” Jake says. “I doubt it. Can he come out?” “Sure.” Jake opens the cage door and hauls the ferret out by the scruff of its neck. I take Bandit from him and bury my face in the ferret’s fur.
