To all who have lost their beloved fur kids, my sincere condolences.  I
haven't been able to write much to anyone due to school and many things
happened that kept me from doing so.  I am remiss on two of the tributes
here.  We'd just lost Frodo and then we lost Eowyn.  That truly took the
heart out of me, and I just couldn't do it till now.  I hope you don't
mind the long post here, [posts combined] but I felt the girls needed to
have their stories told to you, as well as my gentle F.
 
Eowyn
 
Eowyn was one of the Minnesota rescue ferrets that came to us three years
ago.  Arwen, Storm, and Bilbo were the others that came.  Arwen, Storm,
and Eowyn were a group unto themselves, and Bilbo, ah, little old man he
was, and he was a loner.  Bilbo left us first, then Storm.  Arwen and
Eowyn remained their own little clique, and they were both biters, but
Eowyn was the biter of humans, Arwen the biter of ferrets.  Eowyn was so
hilarious-she loved to burrow under blankets, trying to sneak up on you
to bite you.  She terrorized our daughter doing this all the time.  And
as she snuck up you could hear her tail beating a tattoo on the futon.
When she went through the tubes it was so funny.  She loved for you to
sneak over there, wiggle your fingers across the top of the tube.  You'd
see her nose sticking out, and then she race out, run by you to see if
you'd chase her around.  I always said she was on espresso!
 
One evening my oldest great-nephew was here, and we were eating dinner,
watching TV.  Eowyn was wandering around, looking for an opportune
moment.  She got on the futon behind Travis and suddenly smelled his
French fries.  She took a flying leap off the back of the futon onto the
coffee table, right next to his plate.  She grabbed the biggest fry off
his plate she could and was a sable streak through the living room.  I
was sitting there, trying not to fall off my chair laughing while Travis
was in shock.  He looked at me, stuttering 'she touched my food' and I
had to reassure him that it was only that fry.  We had to handle her with
leather gloves to be able to pick her up, to play with her for months.
One time she was out playing and it was time for her to go up.  I thought
I could out-fox her, not use the gloves, so I waved my right hand at her
and reached for her neck in what I thought was a pretty fast move-but not
fast enough.  There I was with this less than one-pound ferret attached
to the fat pad of my thumb!  I reached down to touch her and she tensed
up, sinking her teeth further into my finger.  I was the only one home,
so put a grip on her into a scruff, sat down on the futon.  There I was,
ferret dangling from my thumb while scruffed with the other hand.  I'd
started to try to pry her loose with one finger, then thought if she
suddenly let go, she try for that finger.  We were like this for ten
minutes, and by the end of it I was starting to shake.  Suddenly, I felt
her start to release her death grip, and as she did, I worked my finger
off her teeth.  Once she'd totally let go I patted her, set her down on
the floor and cradled my thumb with tears running down my face.  She, on
the other hand, went happily war dancing across the floor!
 
She was our warrior princess, and it was such a shock in March to find
her turning suddenly yellow.  We rushed her to the vet to find she had
the beginnings of liver failure.  The vet sub-q'd her, had us start that
at home.  She rallied, was doing well, eating, returning to her holy
terror self.  On the 24th of March she turned downhill rapidly, suddenly
yellow, weight went away.  I called the vet and on the 25th we took her
out, Larry cradling her in his jacket.  We had a discussion with the vet,
and he told us we could again flush her, give her meds, but he feared the
liver failure was rapidly advancing to totality.  I told him we'd not put
her through this type of thing, and we made the call to help her to the
Bridge.  Many ferrets have I had to make this decision on, and I always
think that that one has been the hardest, but this was truly hard.  She
was such a ball of fire, such a light for us all to laugh at.  Larry
couldn't stay in the room.  He's not afraid of being there, but some
that leave us he's more attached to, and she was one.
 
And so Eowyn of the Rohan, our warrior princess, left of on March 25,
2005.  She's sorely missed by us all.  Arwen, her mate, soldiers on;
terrorizing other ferrets, and will never accept another.  Muldoone,
please look for her.  I couldn't write this tribute for the longest time,
it was too hard.  Too many losses too close together, and then the loss
of Eowyn.  Ask her to forgive me for not telling her story sooner, for
she truly deserves for everyone to know what a hoot she was for all of
us.
 
Joy
 
Joy came to us in September of 2000, just before Ferrets 2000.  My great
friend, Judy Cooke, had seen her in a pet store, a little DEW that was
growing, unwanted by anyone.  Of course, Judy just had to twist my arm
for me to say yes, and so she came to us.
 
When we came back from Toronto we'd brought Jill with us, so now we had
two DEWs and had to make sure we knew how to tell them apart.  Joy
delighted in stealing Spunky's blue bunny, and you'd see her stealing it
from where he stashed it, running with it and him in hot pursuit.  Poor
Spunky would look at me with HELP!  in his eyes, and I'd have to help him
stash the bunny, but inevitably Joy would find it.  After we moved into
our house I heard this noise like a herd of tiny horses racing down the
stairs.  There was Joy in the lead, bunny clamped in her mouth, Spunky
hot on her tail trying to catch her, and suddenly Muggles leaping on
Spunky to stop him.  Never a dull moment.  When Spunky left us for the
Bridge I put his blue bunny up-no one but Spunky would ever touch it
again.
 
Joy kept having a blast, tormenting ferrets and people whenever she
felt like it.  But in April we noticed she'd slowed down, and that she
was having severe hair loss, sudden, severe hair loss.  And so she and
Reagan went for adrenal surgeries.  Joy had bilateral, and Reagan had an
inoperable right-it's into her vena cava.  Joy's weight just wouldn't
come back, and when I went to the symposium in St.  Louis I knew I wanted
to sit at the table about the melatonin implants.  When I returned we
were seriously thinking about it.
 
I was getting ready for finals, and thought that after them I'd take her
to my vet, and we'd try the melatonin.  Robin Jones had sent me a picture
of her Noel, how it had helped her, and I was going to show him the
picture.  But Joy had an odd look in her eyes the evening of the 12th,
and I told her, you hang on girl.  I got home, got done what I needed and
had to get to a final.  On the way home I phoned Larry and asked how all
was, and he told me Joy had left for the Bridge.  I was stunned.  I had
talked to her about the Bridge, but still, I kept kicking myself for not
looking in on her before I left.  Larry told me he was glad I hadn't,
because he knew I wouldn't have been able to have concentrated on my
final.
 
Muldoone, would you check on Joy, also?  I know she's up there with the
Crew; probably she and Spunky have another toy that they can steal from
each other.  Tell her I'm so sorry I didn't look for her before I left.
I know I probably would have missed that final, but I would have been
able to tell her I loved her one more time.
 
F
 
F came to us with his mate, Nelly, in March of 2002.  They'd belonged
to a student who couldn't keep them, and she'd passed them from person
to person until deciding to find them a home.  Nelly came to us with
adrenal, and it turned into bilateral surgery.  She was doing fine, but
on the 16th day she developed Addison's and we lost her.
 
F came to us with severe depression-one too many homes, no one to truly
care about him.  He'd go into a corner and just curl up.  I would hold
him, walk around with him, sing to him, and force him to eat.  He'd just
look at me like, yeah, right, you won't keep me either.  But I finally
got him to know that he wasn't leaving, and the first day he ate and
walked around with the rest of the Crew was so good.
 
He made the move here just fine, and he loved the house, especially
racing up and down the tubes.  He never war danced that I could see.
Like my sweet Alix, one too many homes.  Frodo would always try to ambush
F, thinking he could 'whip the old man'.  Larry and I would sit and
watch, and you could see F just deciding it was time, and before you,
F would turn and have Frodo pinned with a look on his face like "boy,
enough is enough".  I used to tell Frodo that age and deceit will always
win out over youth and vitality!
 
During the winter I found F lying down, and felt him.  He had enlarged
lymph nodes all over his legs, under his armpits.  I took him to the vet
and we both knew-lymphoma.  So we began a regimen of pedia pred.  Then
he began to swell in the abdomen, just as Calvin had done, and I knew he
was full of insulinoma tumors, and to top it off the hair loss began.  He
had received a triple whammy.  I made up my mind that he would not have
surgery, for I'm a firm believer that when this many things are wrong
and you do surgery, it just spreads it.  F did well on the medication,
for he got it in his chicken gravy, which he loved beyond belief.  The
last three months he'd gone steadily down hill, was beginning to lose
control of his bowels, when he walked he would collapse, breathing
heavily the last few days, and I knew it was time.  I would not allow
him to suffer any more indignities, for he was such a gentleman.
 
Today, 7/16/05, at 11:45 am, F went to the Bridge.  I know that Nelly was
there for him; Frodo was probably waiting to tackle him again, to wrestle
and be beaten.  And I know that all the others of the Crew at the Bridge
were there to meet him.
 
And now, again, Muldoone, I have to ask you to meet another one.  My F,
Effer Teffer, has come to the Bridge.  He's a beautiful dark sable, a
quiet boy.  Please lead him to the chicken gravy, for he and Spunky would
try to eat each other under the table.  Please let him know how much I
loved him; let them all know how much I loved them all that are there.
 
Rebecca and the earth bound 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 4941]