Sukie,
 
I broke out the tissue for this one.  All in the name of research, right?
 
When we adopted Barney, I believe he was already 8.  He was an MF albino
with a perfect dispostion.  GCFA let us take him home as a foster after he
survived chemo, adrenal and bladder surgery.  He was on meds for insulinoma.
 
I guess they expected he'd live a couple or three weeks.  We scheduled a vet
appt 3 months hence, but no one figured he'd make it.  "Take his hammock,"
they said.  "He never leaves his hammock."
 
Well!  With all our young ferrets to play with, he never returned to his
hammock!  He ran and played and chased the girls like when he was young.  He
gave kisses and enjoyed life, grew back all the hair on his tail, and even
liked his medicine.
 
This "coupla weeks" ferret" stayed with us exactly one year, so he was about
9 when he crawled under the heat register and hid himself away to die.
Selfishly, I recall, after his last seizure, I begged him not to die until
after Christmas.  His death surpassed all agony and sorrow in my life.
Worse than when my kid left home.  He was my baby, after only a year.
 
He lived to 9 on a diet of Iams Kitten and love.
[Posted in FML issue 2108]