Thanks for everyone's kind words and suggestions on my girl's sudden death.
The notes were moving and informative and I am saving them for a scrapbook
and photo album / biography I intend to generate about her and other
members of my nuclear family.
 
For those of you who missed my last posting - my nearly 4 year old ferret
died on the operating table very unexpectively Wednesday 6/6/01.  She was
full of tumors, after just a few weeks earlier getting a clean bill of
health, her shots, etc.  She was wonderful and my baby.  I simply cannot
express how deeply this has affected me - and every day of her life I
dreaded this inevitable end, and didn't know how I would cope.  Now I am
forced to and I am very sad.  I cannot control myself and can barely see.
I am dying emotionally.
 
Of her 4 years, there was only about 15 or so days when I was away from
her for more than 24 hours.  She came to work with me, traveled with me,
and every minute we were together was magical and enlightening.  My other
2 weasels and my cat are also precious, but Shelby was my first pet after
living on my own, and right now, guiltily, I have to say she is my most
closely-bonded family member.  She is the greatest being I have ever known.
She is better than the some of her parts, in a way I have never seen in a
being before.  Perhaps it was the summer we lived in my truck and in hotels
while I was trying to find us a nice home.  I don't know, but we were a
perfect match.  I wish I was a ferret because of her - so I could just be
loved and not have a care in the world.  I tried to give her everything she
could possibly want.  I am passing her panda-beanie baby onto my newest
baby weasel, Cherry - she seems to like it.
 
Shelby Girl is a black sable, has a brown nose, and was sleek and
beautiful.  She was my child and my teacher.  I gave her an Egyptian
burial, and had her put in plastic and in her hammock, then in a box I cut
by hand and then wrapped in plastic.  Then I placed it in a deep hole under
a tree in my yard near an old stump we liked to explore together.  It is a
beautiful place and I think that if it is true that there is a spirit that
comes back to the body to visit this earth - she will be satisfied.  I put
her extra blanket, a water bottle, a ferret sweater she didn't like but I
got her as a present, and ample ferretone.  I have been enjoying all my
pictures of her throughout these short years.
 
Shelby Girl and myself spoke in some language between ferret and human -
I knew her and she new me.  She new when I wanted her to visit.  She knew
when I knew she took something and hid it.  I knew when she needed hugs,
snacks, the litterbox, or when she wanted me to "uppie" her on my shoulder.
She would wrap her arms around my arm or leg and nuzzle me and give me a
hug.  Every day she waited by the door to get taken up and into my car, for
a drive to wherever I was going next.  Many times my other girls would be
sleeping when I would get up to go somewhere at some strange time, but
Shelby Girl always got up and was ready to go out.  She liked her bag /
carry case and would sleep there in the car, or on my bed.  None of my
ferrets are ever confined to a cage.  She would come up and sleep with me
on the bed, and lie in my arms.  She comforted me when I was low or ill...
she took care of me during my heart surgery recovery and other things that
went on in my life.  She got me out of traffic tickets by being a cutie.
She had more details and character than the most educated historical figure
I can think of.  She was the queen bee of the family.  She will be missed.
 
The Tuesday before her end she had been coughing and breathing heavier than
ever, and I had made the decision to bring her in again over the weekend.
The doctor noticed (after 4 days) a major change, as I had, and said he
wanted to admit her.  I said I'd go get her food and snakies and her bed
while he was going to give her an X-ray.  I said she would only eat her
food.  When I came back I was a wreck and was in a truly grim mood and
could barely hold myself together.  I insisted that I talk to the doctor
and we have a game plan, and I waited a short time before he brought me in.
He showed me her X-ray, saying that he thought she had some pneumonia in a
lung and an abscess possibly in her abdomen, probably not in her digestive
tract.  She was still eating and passing waste easily.  He thought he
should give her some antibiotics and some medicine overnight to try to
clear up her lungs, so the next day's explorative surgery would have a
better chance of working.  He indicated this was necessary and thought
she had a good chance of recovery depending on what was in there, and said
that there was a risk, though.
 
He let me spend time with Shelby Girl.  Shelby saw me and ran across the
table and climbed up my shoulder against my chest to nuzzle me, and I
hugged her.  She climbed upto my shoulder and I put water on my hand to
feed it to her.  She hopped down to examine some scale or something which
she thought was kinda neat, and then came back for more snuggles.  I nipped
at her ears and gave her a long hug, and we were not in that room anymore.
We were in a garden or in a place outside of the normal universe.  We had
our last moment together.  We said goodbye and she said that it was ok.
I said that the doctor cares and will do all that he can.  I told her she
will be on the road to recovery soon.  I told her the doctor was ok and she
could trust him.  I didn't say a word.  Then I came back to the office and
reality with my baby girl, even though we hadn't moved an inch from the
embrace (the doctor watched this).  Shelby hopped out of my arms (held to
my right chest) and she happily climbed over to the doctor and gave him a
hug in the same way.  I said good-bye and that we would come home tomorrow.
She knew I would make sure she was home.  And she is now, and will always
have a place in my heart.  In fact, she has replaced mine through her
death.
 
I still see her everywhere out of the corner of my eye.  I have caught
myself calling her or singing to her.  I figure that is ok.  I still
can't believe it's over.  I keep thinking I need to go dig her up because
I made a mistake.  As if she will just look up, say "peek-a-boo" and
"lets-get-back-inside-to-the-food-dish".  And then I catch myself.
And lose control.
 
Mark H.
[Posted in FML issue 3442]