Critter Profile: Tiramisu!

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Critter Profile: Tiramisu!

Overview!

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Name: Tiramisu

Species: Mustela foundationii (Synchronized weasel)

Primary Caretaker: Sally Maxwell, Margaret Erhardt

Diet: High-protein prescription cat food and a small amount of salmon oil as a treat.

Housed: Wilson’s Wildlife Center, Progressive Care Enclosure, until her rehabilitation is complete.

Creature Features!

You’re probably wondering “What in the world is a synchronized weasel?” Well, we’re afraid Tiramisu can’t answer that on her own, but once she’s back with her friends we’re sure she’ll be happy to show you because this rare species of mustelid loves to perform. Every day they get together and showcase their talents with an elaborate and perfectly coordinated dance for anyone lucky enough to witness. And trust us when we tell you, their choreography is quite a sight to behold!

But the talents of Tiramisu and her friends aren’t limited to dancing. These crafty critters can squeeze through anything. And we mean anything. There’s no barrier thick enough to keep them out. And what’s more, when they squeeze their way into something solid, they might squeeze their way out somewhere completely different, even miles away! This makes them the scourge of party stores and stage managers everywhere as they have a knack for stealing streamers, confetti, makeup, and costumes and using it all to decorate their home.

History!

The Supervisors were caring for a whole community of synchronized weasels for a time, but they weren’t quite able to give them all the care they needed, so their primary caretaker, Margaret Erhardt, contacted us to find them a new arrangement. We got her set up on a little farm a few miles away. Oddly, the transfer involved a lot less paperwork than the Supervisors usually like, but since no one’s come knocking we assume they’re satisfied with the arrangement.

But poor Tiramisu needed some special attention. She’d been hit with a double whammy of adrenal disease and insulinoma, so we’re caring for her here for a time until she’s fully recovered.

A few members of our terrestrial team have been visiting Margaret to assist her with veterinary care and they’ve absolutely fallen in love with her little friends. In fact, they’ve insisted we showcase a few of them here.

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Milk Dud

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French Silk

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Monster Cookie

Special Needs and Accommodations!

Tiramisu requires prednisone twice daily, fed to her via syringe. Fortunately, she loves the chicken flavor, and will happily lap it up with no trouble. We’re currently feeding her six times per day until we’re certain she’s managing her own food intake again. Additionally, her weight is being monitored until it’s back to normal. Finally, check the injection site of her deslorelin implant to be sure it’s healing properly. That sure is a lot to remember!

Now that she’s getting her energy back, she’s eager to explore. Don’t be afraid if she disappears for a bit. She’s probably just visiting her friends at Margaret’s farm. She hates to miss a show! In fact, Margaret says she’s been joining in again. We’ll take that as a sign of her recovery.

Notes about Tiramisu!

Tiramisu and her friends have a secret! What is it? Well, we’re not sure, but they’ve given Margaret a hint. We’ll let her explain it in her own words.

I went out to check on the weasels this morning and found them all gathered at the wall of their enclosure, carrying their treasures with them as they squeeze through. For a moment, I panicked. Did they not like it here? Was I failing them in some way? But they were just squeezing to the other side of the wall, not reappearing miles away, so I followed them.

They ran into the woods, trailing streamers and colorful strips of fabric behind them. Flan and Cheesecake both stopped at the treeline to wait for me, inviting me to join them. It was a beautiful day, nice and cool, bright but not too sunny. I saw Milk Dud dragging a big eyeshadow palette and I picked it up for him. He hopped around my feet for a bit before running ahead.

Eventually we reached a hill. As we climbed, I felt the ground rising and falling slowly, as if something was breathing. The weasels must have felt that, too, because they became very excited. A lot of them began dooking as they bounded up the hill. When we reached the top, they were already setting up. They’d hung streamers from trees and surrounded a large circle with confetti and clothing, making a sort of stage. I set down the palette and a bunch of them gathered around, rubbing their faces in the eyeshadow until they were as brightly colored as their decorations. Tiramisu was among them—she’s looking great, by the way. I can already see her fur starting to regrow.

Then they gathered in their lines. Every one of them joined, this time. Even Sundae, who I think is the oldest of the group. He spends most of his time sleeping, but today he was as energetic as a kit. I could see that they were about to do their dance, but why come out here? Why put in so much extra effort today?

I got my answer a moment later. In front of the “stage,” the hill opened up. And at this point, it becomes difficult to describe what I saw in words. I’ll do my best to explain, but forgive me if it doesn’t make any sense. I don’t mean it opened like a sinkhole, I think it’s more like a dimensional anomaly. A physicist might be able to explain it better than me. It wasn’t a hole, exactly. It’s more like, we were the hole and it was bigger than everything. Even though it was only about four feet in diameter.

If I were to describe what it looked like in the most literal sense, I’d say it was a bunch of swirling colors. But I guess everything we see is just a bunch of swirling colors. What I was really seeing was myself. I don’t mean like looking in a mirror, though, more like looking at my hand. Or like I was my hand and I was looking at my face. Can you imagine what that would be like? Realizing that you’re an appendage of something much larger and more complex than you can imagine. To put it mildly, it was disorienting.

The weasels didn’t seem bothered, though. I could see the excitement on their faces. They began their dance, performing with even more enthusiasm than usual. They used to only dance when no one was around. Then they started doing it for me and later for you. They don’t just want an audience, they want an audience who appreciates them, I think. And they must have felt like this thing was a true connoisseur of weasel dances.

When they finished, their audience made… not a sound exactly, but something I can best explain as a sound. Let’s say it was applause. If it was a word, it would have been “bravo,” I think. Then it closed up, and the hill stopped pulsing. The weasels all started chasing each other around and playing as they usually do. Then I helped them gather up their decorations and we made our way back to the farm.

What does it all mean? I have no idea. It might be connected to some drama with my former employer. The real question, I think, is what happens when a hand realizes its every action is controlled by a brain that’s connected to it, but far away from it? Does the hand resent the brain? For my part, I’m happy that I get to be who I am. I can’t imagine something I’d rather do than take care of these creatures.

Quite the mystery, isn’t it? But we’re certainly happy that this strange audience enjoyed the show. Congratulations on a great performance, Tiramisu and friends!

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