Some days I feel more like the Ferret Funeral Director than a ferret
shelter director, today is one of those days.

I'm having a bit of a pity party today having no where to voice my
angst but to the rest of those who are in the trenches with me as well,
with a litter scoop in one hand an a teaspoon in the other attempting
to empty the ocean that we all find ourselves against the tide of lost,
abandoned and abandoned ferrets, even the strongest of ferret moms and
dads can feel like they are drowning.

It was like an ocean swell this week, just when we were having some
success with adoptions and placed a few special ferrets in wonderful
foster homes the phone rang more than usual, the emails came in.

Before we knew it, the tide changed...the two from Vermont arrived,
(both Vermont and RI have no ferret shelters at all), two left in a
dirt basement nothing to eat or drink, one from a home with severe
asthma, one adrenal gal referred by a friend not receiving any
treatment "size of a quarter" was the description, one found by a land
surveyor in a sewer, and one left on a counter, taped in a shoe box,
another one found wandering the streets.

All of the shelter helpers scrambled, cages, cleaned, Charlie the
ferret taxi dispatched, Michele calling for details, intakes, baths,
revolution, gallons of soup...in in the midst of it all a little ferret
named Ripple.

Ripple looked good when he arrived, decent weight, nice fur, long nails
trimmed, better than his friend who looked adrenal. Left in a basement,
roommate moved, left them behind. The remaining roomate found them
after a few days, assuming that the owner had taken them with him when
he moved. He went out and bought food, gave them a bath, made calls,
brought them the next day to me in work.

Ripple was my newest best friend, the kind of a ferret we call a
"velcro ferret". Followed me around, layed across my foot for
attention, did the koala bear hug when you picked him up. Happy to be
safe, big sad eyes that made you stop and hug him again and again.

In the bustle of caring for the hospice guys, the regular shelter
residents and new arrivals. I didn't see him play the that night. I
went to look for him, head tilted to the side, warm to the touch,
looking real bad, when I picked him up and turned him around, he
screamed, like a sound I NEVER heard before, in my slippers I was
in the car, dialing, driving.

The next few days were late nights, blur of hugs, soupies, wiping, vet
visits. His paws curled up, his legs like Frankenstein, head twisted,
eyes watering. He tried to walk, he ate his soup, he pulled himself a
few inches on the rug and did the whole length of the tube on his back.
We thought it was a bad ear infection, vertigo, blood work down, his BG
was normal, got his temp down.

He went with me to work, he had my coffee break, he had my lunch break,
he had brighter moments, he had set backs, and more brighter moments.
He actually ate soup for me this morning and pulled himself through the
tube on his back, I was hopeful, told him if he didn't give up than I
wouldn't.

I was to drop him off this morning, but I was running late to work so
he came with me, ate his soup, made his way to the poopie area, looked
better and worse each time I stared at him looking for the spark. Maybe
I wanted to see it more than he could give, promised him that if he
kept trying I would to. Told him he could be "Rocky" Ripple as he
didn't want to give up.

Another vet visit today, told him I'd be back in a bit, the vet tech
hugged him, the Dr. was finished with her surgery. It wasn't ten
minutes when she called, his temp was down, his heart was slowing down,
his BG was fine, ears looked clean and not irritated. She thought it
was likely a brain lesion or some kind of poison that he might have
eaten in the dirt basement. He was seizing and could not wait for me to
come back to be with him. I swore that I would never let any of them go
alone, but I could not leave work.

My heart wrenched, he needed to go, he was suffering. I had to send him
alone.........I felt like I had broken my promise to him....

Every ferret that has left takes a little bit of your heart and soul,
some are older and I can mentally understand that "it's their time",
some had ailments that their little bodies cannot overcome, I get those
too. My heart hasn't been so empty since Mr. Ferret who I only had for
1 hour.

This year alone we have lost many and had them cremated all together.
As a small shelter, soon to the the only one in Massachusetts, I even
have to gather pennies to arrange mass cremations, right now I don't
even have the funds to make arrangements for Ripple, :(

I hadn't wanted to post each one but now I do have a special request,
for the Bridge Greeters, there is a group of South Shore Ferret Care
ferrets who have been picked up at the various stops by my Mom the bus
driver and are gathered at the foot of the rainbow bridge just outside
the gate.

Do you suppose that someone could greet my Rocky Ripple and take the
who group so they could gather around the reflecting pond and give a
sad shelter mommy some encouragement to keep on going?

There are so many more ferrets that need help, foster moms and dads to
encourage as well, sometimes we get overwhelmed and need to be reminded
that the ferrets don't just come to us to die, that somehow we make a
teaspoon's worth of difference in an ocean swirling around us, some how
knocking us down and we need some help to get back up again.

Diane - South Shore Ferret Care

[Posted in FML 6870]