As I write this, my eldest ferret (Sprinkles) lies in a cushioned bed,
wrapped in blankets, sipping warm duck soup out of a ceramic dish.  The
vet tells me that there's nothing more to be done with her other than to
make sure she's warm and comfortable.  The cancer that has ravaged her
tiny body has taken its toll on this least-deserving creature in the
world.  Now it's just a matter of time and I'm thisclose to crying as I
write this.
 
Sprinkles was adopted as a kit from a long-defunct shelter in southern
New Jersey called "It's Raining Ferrets".  She came into my family in the
springtime of 1995.  My first memory of her was wonderment that she was
pure white with a dark tail and deep, black eyes.  Until that point the
only white ferrets I'd seen were albinos.  As it turned out Sprinkles was
a true black-eyed white; the dark tail turned completely white within a
few months, leaving not a single dark hair anywhere on her twisty little
body.  My second memory of her was "ouch!", as Sprinkles turned out to be
a little biter who didn't know how to let go.  For the first two months
or so she had to be handled with work gloves on.
 
As it turned out, Sprinkles wasn't mean.  She was just asserting herself.
She came into a house with one other ferret and has thus far lived with
many others on permanent and temporary basis.  Sprinkles was always sure
to let the other ferrets know exactly who was boss.  Sometimes it took
awhile, sometimes it was made very clear right away, but Sprinkles was
always the BFOC (Big Ferret On Campus).  But once the point was made, a
very strange and beautiful thing happened: Sprinkles became the guardian.
If another ferret (who hadn't quite learned who was boss) tried to attack
one of "Sprinkles' ferrets", Sprinkles would pounce on the other ferret
right away.  She was the boss, and nobody messes with the boss's ferrets.
 
Sprinkles was always a strong and determined ferret.  I have a vivid
memory of watching her grab the corner of my king-sized goose down
comforter with her teeth, plant her feet firmly on the ground, arch her
back and pull the comforter off the bed and across the floor to the
opposite side of the room -- fifteen feet away, an inch at a time,
sometimes with one or more other ferrets sitting on top of the comforter
for the ride.
 
I remember bringing Sprinkles to a ferret show and seeing the folks
from "It's Raining Ferrets".  I remember presenting the then-grown-up
Sprinkles to them.  I remember their eyes widening in shock and surprise
and remembrance as they stroked her and played with her and loved her
almost as much as I do.
 
Sprinkles was an exceedingly beautiful creature as well, especially after
bath day (which she hated).  Her coat would shine like whitewater on a
river.  Many people in the park would comment on what a beautiful ferret
she was, and more than one breeder had asked me if she ever had a litter
or would I be interested in breeding her (alas, Sprinkles was altered
before I got her).
 
A couple of years ago Sprinkles had a severe allergic reaction to a
distemper shot; some of you may remember me writing the FML about that.
She was actually dead for almost 20 seconds but the vets brought her
back -- a fighter for sure.  She mostly recovered from that but she was
a changed creature; she slept more than she used to and had developed
some allergies which caused her to go into some severe sneezing fits.
She also slowed down a bit.  When Snippet arrived, Sprinkles didn't
assert herself like she used to.  For awhile Snippet was acting like
she ruled -- at least until she started eating Sprinkles' stash of
chewy treats.
 
But still, Sprinkles ruled the house.
 
These are the memories that I have of Sprinkles, and these are the ones I
have to keep alive because I can't do anything else.  She's asleep now,
adrift on a cocktail of Pediapred and antibiotics and Kaopectate and
duck soup and VitaSol-enriched water.  Her body weight has dropped
precipitously; where a strong 2.6 lb ferret used to strut, now there's a
weak 1.2 lb ferret who has lost much of her hair and almost all of her
strength.  A small heating pad sewn into her bedding helps her maintain
her body temperature.  She poops in the blankets that help warm her, no
longer able to make it into the litter box.  I change them every so
often, wiping her clean as best as I can.  I won't violate her any more
by giving her another hateful bath.
 
The vet tells me that Sprinkles' time is running out but I knew this
already.  The vet says that Sprinkles probably has about three months
more; I think the vet was being very generous but I don't fault her for
that.  I can feel the heaviness in my chest and the tears waiting to
erupt when the time comes when I reach down with her bowl of warm duck
soup and find only a quietness under the blanket, but I can only sit
and hope that the time will never come.  But I know it will, and I
dread every future moment.
 
Today is a nice day but too chilly to bring her outside, so I think
I'll set up the ferret shelf by the window and put an extra blanket on
Sprinkles so we can watch the day go by together.  And then the night.
 
 ...
 
Thanks for reading, all.  If you're interested, I put a couple of
pictures up.
 
http://www.godun.com/~steve/sprinkles/
[Posted in FML issue 4116]