He was called Pee Wee: The P, Mr. P, or P willie He was a ordinary
looking sable. No fancy capes or red shorts. No ferret rocket belt. He
was delivered to Kentucky by Julie Fosse. When he came to KY he had a
big brother. A shelter mate who was named Buford, or Mr. B. both boys
were so well mannered, and so gentle. Sadly Buford wasn't here long.
But Mr. P had work to do.

"P" was my nurse ferret. He would comfort and warm those who were
scared or sick. He was a wonderful ambassador. He would greet people,
and he loved the attention. He would ride along inside my coat as we
walked to get the local morning paper. Peeking out to warn me of cracks
that could trip me up. He was my company on a few trout fishing trips.
He dearly loved to snorkle at the edge of the limestone pools.

"P" passed away this week. Yet I look for him without thinking. He's
not on my bed in the morning. He's not at my feet in the kitchen
looking for his warm soup. He's missing from his favorite sleepy place.
He's missing from my lap as we read the daily paper. He isn't helping
my friend Cassie as she sings silly little songs to the kids.

He did very well for his age. His hips troubled him. He was grey of
muzzle.

His passing was quiet. He was snuggled in a warm fluffy towel. Of all
the fur kids that passed through my door, Mr. P has had the deepest
impact.

No doubt all of them have a special meaning.
All of them teach something.

"P" now rests up on a gentle knoll. He over looks a beautiful meadow
with some great looking spring colts and a huge farm pond with some
great fishing.

Hanna is missing you "P" she's looked every where for you. We all here
look for you.

David and the Winchester weezols, powdered by Diesel the weezol

[Posted in FML 6245]