Dear Sprinkles,
 
As I write this you're laying unconscious in a sterile room, a needle stuck
into your delicate skin, a plastic tube grotesquely inserted into your
neck, a handful of strange chemicals coursing through your body trying to
undo the damage that I did to you.  There's blood on your fur, a crimson
streak amidst your brilliant white fur.  I'm sorry for having done this
to you; it's my fault that you're in a hospital room instead of home with
peanut butter on your nose.
 
It was supposed to be a simple and routine function.  A simple distemper
injection, nothing to it.  You had your rabies injection four weeks ago.
The vet had suggested waiting a couple of weeks before getting the next
one, so I listened.  Last night we were roughhousing like we usually do.
You were on your back and I was tickling your belly with one hand and
holding your back legs with the other.  You were twisting this way and that
trying to stop me from tickling you and trying to get me to let go.  And
when I did, you jumped up, danced around and came back for more.  And more,
again and again.  Now you're trying to stay alive.  I didn't know you might
have such a violent allergic reaction to it.  I should have looked it up.
You can't even move let alone dance.  Last night now seems so long ago.
 
You came into my life and asked me to take care of you, to look out for
you.  "It's a big, scary world," you said, "and I can't survive on my own.
I don't know enough about it.  Will you help me?" You looked at me with
those shining eyes and that twitching nose and that playful little grin of
yours and I gave you my promise.  "I will take care of you," I said.  "I
will feed you and play with you and give you treats and make you feel like
the most special and beautiful creature in the world, because you are.
You'll never want for anything.  You'll wake up in soft blankets, you'll
have dozens of toys, the best food, clean water, and you'll have other
ferrets to play with when I'm not around.  I'll do my best." We sealed our
promise with a fuzzy hug and you moved into my home and my life and my
heart.
 
I tried, Sprinkles.  I really, really tried, honest I did.  Was it enough?
Please tell me it was enough.  Please wake up.  Please open your eyes and
give me one more look to tell me that I kept my promise to you.  Tell me
that I made you happy.  Tell me that you remember the walks in the park as
much as I do.  Make me believe that our games of tug-of-war, the trips to
the mall, the bathtub swimming pool, the crumply plastic bags, the games we
played together, the naps you took inside my jacket on those cool evenings
on the way home after crunching through the leaves... Make me believe that
they filled your little heart with joy and happiness the same way they did
to mine.
 
Tell me that you're getting better.
 
Tell me that you're coming home again. Please.
 
I promise I'll be better next time.  Give me another chance, please.  I'm
begging you.  I'll come home from work earlier and we'll spend more time
together.  We haven't been to the park in awhile; do you miss the park?  We
can go back there any time you want.  They even have a big plastic slide.
You used to love going down the slide, remember?  We can do that too.
Fight, Sprinkles.  Please fight and stay alive.  We still have so much to
do and oh, so little time left to do it.  I'm sorry.  Please forgive me,
and come home.
 
[SE]
[Posted in FML issue 2957]