Troy Lynn told me that her Teddy passed away, and I asked if I could say a
few things.
 
The first time I met Teddy was when I adopted Apollo. She walked out under
her own power, barely, and sniffed my hand. She was very ill, and when TL
told me about how she was the last of her breeding line and how long she
had her, I saw tears in her eyes. Later that evening, while my wife and I
were eating pizza, TL fed Teddy food through a syringe, talking to her and
petting her all the while. When Teddy wanted a break, TL would let her
walk around.
 
Not much changed by the second time I saw Teddy, except she was weaker and
had a hard time holding her head up while walking.  I felt like crying when
I watched her walk around the room, sniffing the things she couldn't see,
but still wanting to experience them and to know about them.  Several times
she fell on her side, but TL would scoop her up, and help her on her way.
During my visit, feeding Teddy was part of the routine.  TL would carefully
wrap her in a towel, and slowly feed her with the syringe.  When Teddy made
a mess, TL took it completely in stride, and without a word, cleaned it up.
 
I am setting here, trying to relate what can only be experienced first hand,
which is the love and dedication Troy Lynn lavished on Teddy.  I believe I
made a joke at the time, saying I wished my wife would take care of me so
well when my turn came.  But it wasn't a joke, really, for TL gave her
friend what we all want; love, respect, and dignity.
 
Teddy, I didn't know you very well, but I supposed you war-danced on
occasion, and tried to get into trouble whenever possible.  You probably
climbed where you shouldn't, and bit too hard sometimes.  You raced and
dooked and begged for treats and jumped and played and did everything a
ferret was supposed to do.  But you did more.
 
You lived your life as it was given you, and never gave up.  Loss of senses
did not stop you, age did not stop you, and medical problems did not stop
you from being what was in your heart.  A ferret, full of curiosity and joy
at being alive.  I think the day you opened your mouth for that first taste
of milk was a good one, as were all the rest, even the day you lay in the
loving arms of your friend and breathed your last.
 
Thank you both, Teddy and Troy Lynn, for sharing with me the meaning of
love, respect, and dignity.
 
Bob
Moose, Stella, Daye, Tori, Bear, Apollo, Foster, Buddy, Razz, Gus, Simon,
Nosette, and Balistic.
[Posted in FML issue 1404]