As I sit here and type this, my heart is broken and I am in tears,
finding it hard to read what I am writing. My 3 year old dark eyed
white had a huge mass in his abdomen which my vet said was lymphoma
and too big to operate on. I have not been able to interact with my
ferrets as I cannot do much right now after bilateral total hip joint
replacements. I had my husband bring my kids to me one at a time and
noticed that Snookie had lost some weight. My husband said he had a
great appetite and gobbled all his soup down and was eating crunchies.
I noticed Snookie had lost even more weight and it looked as though
his coloring on nose, etc was pale and did not want to eat yesterday.
I had my sister come over to check him and she agreed and said he was
weak. I called my vet for an emergency visit but of course she was
not available over this weekend. I had called her office last night
and left a message that he needed to be put to sleep and I needed a
appointment asap. This morning when Donald went in to feed the ferrets
and take care of them, he found Snookie laying by the door barely
alive. He brought him to me as I knew he was dying, he was cool to the
touch and not very respondent. I called the vets office as soon as they
were in and got a appointment for as soon as the vet got in. Meanwhile
I put Snookie on my chest, put a towel over him as well as my blankets
and laid back down in my hospital bed. He twitched, had labored
breathing and I knew it was a matter of time as he was unconscious also
and starting to stiffen a bit. I talked to him and cried. He took quite
about 20 labored breaths and passed away 20 minutes before the vet
appointment this morning. My sister got here 5 minutes after he had
passed as she was going to take me to the vet appointment as I cannot
drive yet. She confirmed he was gone. She wrapped him up in a nice warm
sleepsack and when Donald gets home tonight, he will bury him out in
our back yard with our other children. My sister said I was lucky to
have him pass this way as he got to hear my heart and was not alone.
For this I am thankful, though it was so hard to do, I thought of him
first before myself and my feelings of fear. He was only 3 years old
and it just was not fair.

Eleanor, Donald and the weasels

[Posted in FML 6428]