I am sorry, but this will be rather long.  I figured I have to start at
the beginning.
 
I had bought Bandit from a PetCo in 1999--an impulse buy.  He was
perfect.  A dark sable.  Loved soda (could hear a can open a mile away
and then be there to get some), fruit loops, and everything he wasn't
supposed to be in.  He had free roam of my room and was only put in his
3 story cage when he really got in trouble.  I had met a perfect guy and
started to like him more and more.  But, the true test was going to be
how Tom and Bandit got along.  They loved each other.  Tom loved to play
with Bandit and Bandit loved the attention.
 
Tom and I decided to move in to our own apartment.  Bandit decided that
he no longer wanted to use the litter box.  We would find dropping here
and there, but couldn't figure out where the mother load was.  About a
month later, we found it.  The little stinker was going beneath the
couch!!  One side was a litter box, and the other side was his blanket.
 
Anyway, on Feb. 8 this year, I was getting ready for work and I was
eating a cheese hot dog.  I gave a little piece to Bandit (his first) and
he loved it.  As I was leaving he was on the couch looking at me as if to
say goodbye.  I came home that evening and couldn't find Bandit.  My
niece was coming to my house to spend the night and when she got there we
spent hours looking for him.  I called Tom and asked if he was home after
he was done with work and he said no.  He also said Bandit must have
gotten out when my niece came.  (He liked to try and dart outside!)  I
told him there was no way because his food and water wasn't touched since
I left for work.
 
Tom came home to help us look for him.  I, of course, was frantic.  A
couple of months after I brought Bandit home I found out I was pregnant.
4 weeks later I miscarried.  He became my world.  And now I couldn't find
him.  (I was now 20 weeks pregnant--had a rough pregnancy and really bad
high blood pressure---so, this was not helping me).  We tore the whole
apartment apart.  I practacally destroyed our cupboards b/c I tore the
floor of them up.  (it took a couple of days and a lot of nails to fix
that mess) I ripped the couch open thinking he crawled in there and got
stuck.  We over turned chairs and stands.  We pulled the fridge out and
even looked in the broiler on our stove (we store the pots and pans in
there and Bandit loved the clanging noise).  Still could not find him.
 
Tom concluded that he must have got outside.  I was hoping that was the
case even though I knew better.  The next morning Tiffany and I went
outside to the area complexes calling his name and looking through the
bushes.  We came back after a couple of hours to rest and warm up.  I
got to thinking I never really looked in the stove.  Just underneath it.
I remembered reading that a ferret had crawled in the stove and when the
owner turned it on, the ferret got burnt.  So, I pulled the stove out.
Tiffany tried to watch but I told her to stand back that I didn't want
her to see.  I gave her the cell phone to call Tom in case he was in
there.  As I was looking behind the stove, I saw what looked like fur
sticking out of the enclosure that holds the wires.  Right then and there
I swear my heart stopped.  I pulled that thing apart with all of my
strength----and I found Bandit.  He was dead.  Tiffany finally mananged
to call Tom and he came right home.
 
We finally figured out that Bandit had crawled through the broiler and up
the side where the insulation was.  (there was a couple of pieces of
insulation in the broiler, but didn't think much of it)  He then crawled
up the back and his curiousity had him look in the encasement with the
wires.  He must have fallen down it (he was head first) and as he
struggled to get out, he was electrocuted.
 
We buried him in a storage box that was big enough to hold him and
everything else we wanted to put in.  He was wrapped in his blanket, has
his treats, food, fruit loops, "Patty" his stuffed platypus, crinkley
paper, a picture of Tom, me and Bandit posing on the couch, and a can of
Pepsi (which was his favorite above everything else).  We had drove to my
parents house to bury him.  There is a big pine tree out back that all of
our animals that died are buried.  (Our version of the Pet Cememtary).
Bandit would've been 4 yrs old in July.
 
When Tiffany called Tom at work he had called my mom (my dad and brother
was digging the hole when we got there) and his mom.  Tom thought it
would be a good idea to get another ferret to keep me busy.  (The less
problems with my pregnancy, the better)  His parents gave him the money
to get what ever we had needed.  So on Feb 10. we found a 2 month old
female.  The bottom of her tail and her four paws look like the were
dipped in chocolate.  We finally got her over the biting stage.  We named
her "Tootsie" because of her love of our feet and shoes.  To this day
there is not one foot that comes in to our apartment that doesn't get
attacked.  She is hell on wheels.  She sure has kept me busy, though.
 
Two weeks after Bandit died I went into labor.  I was a couple of days
shy of my 23rd week.  The doctors couldn't stop it.  On Feb 27 I gave
birth to a daughter, Kaylie Elizabeth.  She weighed 1 pound 3 ounces.
She only lived for 1 hour.
 
So because of all this I am just now writing to you about Bandit.  Thank
you for letting me get this out.
 
All our love, Tom, Teri, Tootsie May, and Spaz (Tom's cat)
[Posted in FML issue 4148]