First, let me thank the FML for the condolences we have received for our
loss of little Fang.  Most of you have been through this, but we are new
at losing something so special; this little flash of fur that scampered
around our house, making sure that everything was in order, checking to
see who was home, and making sure nobody moved his stuff.  He was our fuzzy
kiss alarm clock in the morning, our youngest child, and basically, the
head honcho of the house.  His schedule called for adjustments in ours;
gladly accommodated because the love that he instilled in our hearts was
more than worth any sacrifice we had to make for his happiness.  Often in
quiet moments, I wrote him poems in my heart, thanking God for this little
creature that we hadn't wanted in the beginning, due to our ignorance.
 
I remember when my son brought him back from his father's when Fang was
only two months old.  We didn't know squat, so I went to the library and
got a book about this rat-thing that had moved in our home, suspiciously
sent here by my ex-husband from hell who desired demolition of our
tranquility.  I remember reading that they live from 10 to 14 years
(whoever wrote that book was not from this planet)...and me saying,
"Oh, my God, we have to have this thing for ten whole years !"  Little
did we know that in just three days, we would be saying, "Oh no, he's only
going to live ten years!  How can we ever be without him?" What we would
give now, to have had those ten years the book promised.  We are all so
cheated, all of us who understand this thing called ferret love.
 
Fang came home tonight in a little beautiful urn from his cremation
yesterday.  I wanted to stay with him then, but the process takes longer
than I had thought, and we wanted every part of it to be on the level, and
perfect; just like little Fang was.  I wanted to share with you all what
happened with my husband not being able to attend due to work: (a couple
of you already know this part)...he couldn't attend due to their cattle
company moving cattle that morning, and they were short handed.  He felt
badly, but there was nothing he could do about it.  I had a friend drive
me to the vet, and it was a long 25 minutes holding little Fang in his
favorite blankie on my shoulder while he was still struggling to breathe.
He would whimper, and I kept kissing his little cold nose.  I cried, and
the tears fell on the top of his little head.  When we got there, the vet
gave him a morphine shot before the final shot to let him go to the Bridge.
Right before she was to administer the morphine, my husband came rushing
in!  He had told the boss at work that he just had to be with Fang before
he went...so they put the whole cattle drive on hold to wait for him!  We
were both able to hold and love him, and say goodbye one last time.  He
kept hanging on, but his little body was almost lifelessly then.  Still,
his little body struggled as if he couldn't get enough air.  She gave him
the morphine shot because she said that with his veins in such bad shape,
that she would have to give him his final shot through the heart.  This
is what nobody wants to know about, but trying to put it in a vein in
this case would have caused him more stress, and his passing to be more
slow...we didn't want that.  It was time us to give him this gift of relief
with no delay.  Everybody was crying and it was almost too much go get
through.  My husband, a man of few words, but deep feelings, sobbed.(
Little Fang was daddy's boy, too).  I came home in sort of shock, cleaned
house with the rage of a bull, put all Fang's things in the attic after
washing his little blankies and slumber bags.  I couldn't bare to see them;
not for awhile.  I worked non-stop for four hours, numb inside.  Then it
came like a flood, and I cried from the depth of my soul.  You guys know
about this...it is in the job description of this thing called ferret love.
It is brutal, and comes from the very bottom of who you are.
 
I took another valium last night in order to get relief from the pain.
No, I am not hooked on these magic pills, but I didn't care; I needed one
again.  I didn't care about anything.
 
I need to share about his tumor and what the vet thought..another post,
as I don't know how long this is, and I don't want to get zapped.  My
whole insides feel zapped already.
 
Lizzi,with no little Fang to hold anymore.
[Posted in FML issue 3300]