My very first little ferret, Sarah, died tonight.  I went in to feed her,
and she was hanging out of her hammock.  Sarah was always tiny, and she
weighed less than a pound, but she had more energy than all of the other
ferrets put together.  She was the mother of the bunch (eight others), and
she was always teaching them naughty tricks.  She was very smart.  Sarah
was only five years old.
 
My heart is broken.  She wasn't even sick... she just died.  I wasn't home
when she went, and it hurt to see that she was trying to get out of her
hammock.  The other ferrets were just sitting and looking at her... they
weren't excited to see me or trying to get picked-up or anything.  Sam is
especially upset... I got the two of them together when they were 8 weeks
old.  Sam has insulinomia, and he will probably go now that Sarah is gone,
too.
 
How can such a tiny little weasel make such an impact?  I loved Sarah very,
very much.  It was like she understood me when I spoke to her, and she gave
such sweet, neat little kisses.  It didn't take much to make her happy.
 
I can't write anymore.  I have to leave for Maine in the morning, and I
will have to bury my little friend before I go.  I hope there is a special
place in heaven for animals.  They say they don't have souls, but I don't
believe it... I know they have a spirit.
 
Bye, Sarah... I love you. I won't forget you.
 
Mom
[Posted in FML issue 3198]