To all who have lost their beloved fuzzies or have ill ones, my
condolences and wishes for their better health.  I've a week off from
school and hope to catch up on my emails.
 
This is rather a dual post to the FML, both sweet and yet sad.  I have
to ask Sandee and Muldoone to meet three of my kids Monday, September
20, and I'm praying not a fourth one, but at this moment it doesn't look
good.  Their stories are the first part of my post, and if Bill prefers,
he might break this into two parts, as it might be rather long.
[May as well keep them together.  BIG]
 
It seems that when some new kids come to us, those that are ill decide to
leave, as though they know the new one/ones will help ease their passing
for us, and it seems this is what's going on now.  Baby came to us not
quite four years ago.  I'd become friends with his mom, Jeannie, here on
the FML, and we'd talked on the phone, too.  She'd fought to keep him
through her oldest daughter's allergies, and working things out with her
boyfriend.  But then she got a new job, new city, and where they were
going to live didn't allow ferrets.  She didn't ask me to take him; I
think she was afraid to, thinking I'd judge her, so she put a post on
the FML, knowing I'd see it.  I got hold of her the minute I read it,
told her to not even think of him going anywhere but with us, and she
was so relieved.  And so on a fall day Baby came to us, amidst her tears
at having to let him go.  The first thing Baby did was meet Muggles, and
it was one of those instantaneous bondings.  He didn't even care when
Jeannie and her girls left.  Baby was about four years old, had been an
only ferret, but you'd never have known it.  His first night with us I
looked in on him, and there he was with Muggles, Muggles' front leg
tossed over Baby's side.  Baby's never been sick, the picture of health,
but not quite two months ago we noticed he was incredibly pale, very
lethargic.  Larry and I were both worried, so we contacted the vet to
ask for exploratory surgery.  I had to leave and wasn't there when the
surgery was done, but got back not too long afterward.  The vet told me
Baby had an inoperable right adrenal, massively adhered to the vena cava,
and he wouldn't even attempt to touch it.  But he'd also gone ahead and
done a splenectomy on Baby.  Baby's spleen had a huge, and I mean huge,
blood clot/tumor on the tip of it, almost the size of a ping-pong ball,
with other tiny ones surrounding it.  He also had some tumors in his
intestine.  I asked the vet his chances, and he said with the spleen out
Baby shou do a lot better, unless the adrenal started to go.  Baby felt
really well for almost two months, but then his hair has rapidly started
to fall out, and he's been digging at himself till he's almost bloody.
His lethargy has come back, and he's staggering.  We know that he's in
pain, and so tomorrow he'll be helped to the Bridge, where he'll never
be sick again.
 
Our second little one to leave us tomorrow will be Smokey, aka Smokey
Joe.  Smokey came to us about three years ago with his bonded mate,
Bandit.  They both had been with Jean Caputo-Lee, and we adopted them
from her.  Bandit was a beautiful sable boy, had his left adrenal out,
but the right wouldn't allow it.  He fought it like a trooper, but then
the hair started falling out, and before we could start Lupron shots
on him, he went to sleep in the cage and never woke up, broke my heart
because I wasn't there for him, didn't get to tell him of the Bridge.
Smokey has missed him terribly, I know.  Smokey could have been a show
ferret-orange/apricot coat with black guard hairs, cream-colored head and
the disposition of an angel.  I've always called him my California surfer
dude.  He's never been sick, picture of health, and about 4 months ago I
came home to find him in an insulinoma attack.  I got pedia-pred down
him, and it took a while, but he came out of it.  He's held his doses for
quite some time, but suddenly he's been having more and more attacks, and
is now at the limit for pedia-pred.  His weight is dropping and he's
fighting his medication.  I had to take Maria to the vet on Saturday,
and we talked about Smokey.  He's had two massive attacks in less than a
week, withmore pedia pred to bring him out of it than is healthy.  The
vet and I concurred that it's time to let Smokey rejoin Bandit, before
Smokey goes into a seizure that I can't bring him out of.  This is my
great fear, for I won't return to the so-called emergency clinic here
in our city.
 
The last little one to tell you about is Maria, our Maria-pia.  She came
to us via Julie Fossa, and she came from New Jersey, where Julie got
her.  Maria came with Reagan, Bubbles, and Bianca, and all needed
surgery.  Maria not only had adrenal surgery, she had to have one-third
of her spleen removed.  She's also gone insulinomic, and has been on
pedia-pred for months.  We've babied her, all three of the girls, because
Bubbles went to sleep during her surgery, and slipped away to the Bridge,
where she waits for her friends.  On Friday night I went to let Maria and
her group out, and Maria looked as though she were dying.  Her eyes were
glazed inpain; shallow breathing, paralyzed in the hindquarters, and her
little tail was curled over her back.  I picked her up and rocked her to
calm her, and she clung to me, pain written all over her body.  I wasn't
sure if it was an insulinoma attack, so I gave her a bit more pedia-pred,
and alittle bit of pain meds that I've been giving Mookie.  She wanted
down, tried to walk, and would fall.  I took her upstairs and put her in
her cage, found her trying to eat.  I talked to her of the Bridge, told
her how beautiful it was, for I didn't think she'd be with us Saturday
morning.  Saturday morning I went to her cage with her meds and she met
me at the gate!  Our vet was in, and I got her out there.  I told him I'd
felt a mass in her abdomen when she was having her attack, and he found
it, along with lumps all over her spleen.  He told me she has a form of
sarcoma that's no doubt in the blood, and what happened to her is one of
the cysts on her spleen probably burst.  He's known other ferrets to
survive this type of thing, and suggested we monitor her, keep her going.
He said we could discuss a complete splenectomy, but I vetoed that
because of the cancer.
 
I got home, sat down and talked to Larry.  We both agreed that it would
be best for Smokey and Baby to meet the Crew at the Bridge, and then we
discussed Maria, and both of us have agreed that we can't allow her to
live like this, with these tumors bursting and causing this intense pain.
And so tomorrow, or today as you read this, I have a terrible day ahead
of me.  I have to take three members of the Crew of Merry Mayhem to our
vet, and help them from their pain and illness.  I know this is the right
thing to do, I know it, but this is so very, very hard-three all at once
like this.  So Sandee and Muldoone, be on the lookout for three of our
kids, will you?  Smokey I know will be met by Bandit because I've seen
him watching him in the distance, that far away look in his eyes,
watching Bandit waiting for him.  Baby I know will be ecstatic to see
Muggles and all the Crew from his group.  Will you please make sure he
has plenty of strawberries and craisins?  These are his passion, and
I've allowed him to have as many as he's wanted since his surgery.  And
Maria, little Miss Maria.  She looks so much like Suzy Derkins you might
get them confused, but Maria and Suzy will set everyone straight.  I know
Bubbles will know her, and the other Crew members that Maria terrorized
will be able to make peace with her.  Tell these three how sorry I am,
that this just tears me up.  I don't care how many we take care of here,
they're all so hard to lose when they leave us, and this just tears at
me.  Tell Maria I'll miss singing How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria
to her, for that's the way I'd track her through the house-she loved it.
And Baby, my Buhbeee, how I'll miss that face begging for strawberries.
And thenSmokey-always chewing on the toys, so easy to find from the noise
of him chewing, Mr. Gentleman Ferret.  Have fun at the Bridge you three,
meet up with all the other members of the Crew, and know how much I'll
miss you.  I had to write this Sunday, because I know that Monday after
all is over I'll have to find my way home through my tears, and try to
remember they're gone when I exercise their groups.
 
Another one I'm seriously worried about is my Mookie, my Mookus-tookus.
He is one of the last of the very first members of the Crew, one that
started it.  I saw him in a pet store in November, over six years ago,
and he was still there in February.  They dropped the price on him, and I
went home to figure out how to rob Peter to pay Paul and get him, and I
could do it.  When we brought him home he couldn't walk, he'd been kept
in one of those blasted glass tanks, and he was a huge boy.  Took him
three days to get his legs under him.  Last year he had to have adrenal
surgery, and he's been fine, but a month ago he started going downhill.
We thought it was his teeth because his gums and throat were red, so onto
Clavamox with no results.  A little over two weeks ago I took him back to
the vet for more exams.  Julie had been over and seen him, thought maybe
it was a hairball or another problem.  The vet examined him thoroughly,
gave him x-rays, and lo and behold he has a broken leg!  It's broken
right at the pelvis, femur head is still there.  So we put him on pain
meds and put him by himself for two weeks, little exercise to try to heal
it.  He didn't like being by himself, so this weekend we put him back
with his group.  I went up to let them out, and he's severely dehydrated,
so we'll be doing sub q fluids soon.  But what worries me is his weight
is totally gone, and he has black, black tarry stools.  So he'll be going
with me too.  I don't know, if I lose Mookie tomorrow too I know I will
totally lose it, just totally be a basket case.  Please keep him in your
thoughts.
 
 
 
Gus, Sunner, and Tickles
 
About three weeks ago Julie Fossa had a little guy named Gus, and having
lost Dakota not too long ago, I called to see if he was there and if she
thought he'd like it here.  I've taken several special needs kids in from
Julie, and she knows that they have a blast here.  Well, Gus came over,
and along with Gus Julie =93just happened=94 to bring Sunner and Tickles,
two young ones who almost lost their lives because the owner didn't want
to find them homes, was going to have them put to sleep.  Someone Julie
knows stepped in and got them to her.  She knows I'm a huge sucker for
little ones like this, and so Sunner and Tickles also stayed with us.
Sunner is such a hoot-a marked white with a tail that looks like it was
stuck in the ink jar half way up.  And she loves to chase the cats.
Fortunately for them, she's not like Ghost, who is the tiny terrorist of
the cats.  Tickles looks like a cross between Muggles and Mugwart, two
sable boys who were Crew members and have gone to the Bridge-Muggles
with heart problems and being trapped in a sheet that I didn't know had
a hole in it, and Mugwart from what the vet and I know wonder isn't the
disease that has been claiming young ones, for he was barely over a year.
Tickles loves to run and get into the tubes, as does Gus.  Ah, Gus.
Little guy, who had been declawed, so we're careful about his feet, but
he loves, absolutely loves to get into the tubes, and you can hear his
tail beating a tattoo through the tube.  These three melded wonderfully
into the group that was Dakota's friends-Ghost, Shadow, and Caesar.  I
have to tell a story about Caesar and Sunner that will make you smile.
The other night we heard them, here in the living room, just going at it.
Caesar is possibly two and a half times the size of Sunner, and he's
trying to pin her, to no avail.  She wiggles out from under him, gets on
top of him and just lets him have it.  All of a sudden I told my husband
to look, quick.  There's Caesar, paws firmly planted on the carpet,
trying to move with all his might, and right behind him, his tail firmly
gripped in her mouth, feet set, body straining, is Sunner!  We thought
we'd fall off the couch and chair laughing.  She finally let him go, he
took off like a gazelle through the tubes, but the big nut didn't learn,
he came back for more.  Ah, ferrets, they break our hearts and make us
laugh.  And today, knowing that things are not good for tomorrow, they're
being more funny than normal for me.
 
Rebecca & the Crew of Merry Mayhem
"Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy, and taste
 good with ketchup"
"Support bacteria, it's the only culture some people have"
[Posted in FML issue 4641]