Boris Ferretloff, the most dignified and bravest ferret I've ever known, died
peacefully this morning at 6:30 a.m.  On Tuesday evening, Boris suffered
another stroke.  This second one was massive and left him paralyzed.
 
Thankfully, he never suffered any pain.  Because he wasn't in pain, both his
vet and I chose to let Nature take its course and allow Boris to make the
trip to Rainbow Bridge as he had lived, on his own terms and in his own time.
 
All of the other ferrets here seemed to know what was happening yesterday --
from time to time, they each would visit Boris, but playtime was ignored.
Instead, each wandered around quietly.  As the end drew closer, I decided to
move Boris to a pillow on the floor and let the other ferrets out.  Each
came up and gave Boris one last kiss.  For the last half hour, I held Boris
cradled in my arms and at 6:30, he sighed and rested his head against my
chest.  When I laid him back on the pillow, poor Dixon (my little deaf and
retarded badger) rushed back to his cage and brought Boris a mouthful of
food -- that brought the first brief rush of tears.
 
Boris was laid to rest wrapped in a flannel blanket I had made for him and
covered by his favorite hammock with Dixon's last gift among the roots of a
tree in the side yard where the first rays of the morning sun reach, which
brought another brief rush of tears.  I still don't know if I should sit
here and cry or celebrate Boris' quiet dignity and courage.  I hope I have
the same dignity when my time comes.
 
Boris came to me last September from a horrible former home.  He had been
left outside in a cage in Ohio the winter before and had lost both his hind
feet and tail during the subzero winter they had.  Then he and his cage
mate, Anastasia, had been abandoned at a shelter in Kentucky.  Thanks to the
wonderful people at Skunks As Pets, Boris and Anastasia came to me.  Because
of his ill care, it was impossible to accurately estimate his age.  We do
know that Boris was somewhere between 9 - 12 years old.  Despite his
previous experiences, Boris was so sweet natured and always ready to share
kisses -- I got his last one at 6 am this morning.  Boris is leaving much
more than memories behind.  Shortly before his first stroke earlier this
month, Boris became the father to the litter Tiny is carrying.  She is due
sometime the second week of April.  I hope she has a sable boy that looks
like his father.  He'll be named Boris, Jr.  -- he'll have some pretty big
footsteps to follow in.
 
Scott and the grieving 17+
[Posted in FML issue 1885]