I've held off on writing this because it's been so painful the last few
months.  We've lost three since April.  This was written the night before
his death by me.
 
Otto was one of Linda's shelter ferrets.  His owner had abandoned him,
leaving Otto at home with his mom while he went away.  His mom had gone
to the nearest park, walked up to the park ranger and handed Otto to her.
Otto had also been clearly abused.  Linda and Richard had him for nearly
a year before they would even consider allowing him to be put up for
adoption.  Otto was such a bad biter that the second he walked into the
room, you automatically removed toes from the floor.  If you moved
towards him, he would snap up at you.
 
We babysat this little hellion when they went out of town.  Phil was
already in love with him from previous visits to Linda's house to play.
Otto loved to rough house play and Phil was game.  By the time Linda and
her family got back from their trip, Phil was adament that we keep Otto.
I teased him that he wanted Otto so badly because Otto was a "German
ferret".
 
Otto, I believe, in describing him to others, is a bulldog ferret.  Or
that is just the nickname.  All our previous ferrets are fluffy, warm,
heavy weight.  Otto was pure muscle.  There wasn't an ounce of fluff on
him.Because of that, the first initial attempt to get him into the cage
with the others was a rousing failure.  Otto took one look at little tiny
Boo and dragged her under the bed by the back of her neck, thinking she
was a toy.
 
Otto stayed in his own cage by himself for about a month.  One day we
forgot he was still out and let the others out.  Tassy was asleep in the
hammock when I noticed Otto creeping into it.  I warned him to be nice.
He crept into it like he was trying not to get caught.  First his front
feet.  Then his middle.  Then he pulled the rest of himself in.  Otto
heaved a sigh, curled up tightly around Tassy and went to sleep.  That
was all it took.
 
Otto is a ferret's ferret.  He *loves* other ferrets whether they love
him or not.  Max nearly had a heart attack and died when Otto bounced
over to him and lay on him lovingly.
 
It took us a year and a half longer to get Otto not to bite when we
picked him up.  The first time he went for my nose to kiss me, I had to
steel myself against a nasty bite.  But it never came.  He licked it
instead.  Since then, we have had to have blind trust in our boy.  And
he has responded beautifully.
 
Otto likes Cheerios, to dig in snow and to sleep in piles.  I got to see
him again after a year this week when I babysat them.  But I noticed
something was wrong and asked my mom to come see.  His stomach was very
hard and he wasn't walking well.  He slept on his back instead of his
side or tummy.  Before he left me to go back home, I told him how much I
loved him, how proud I was of him, and how I wished I could have had him
his whole life.  I was honored to be his mommy, and I would never forget
him.  I knew it was the last time I would see him.
 
Phil took him to the doctor today.  Otto has a large, walnut sized tumor.
They don't know the location, won't until tomorrow when Dr. P operates.
Otto has a 50% chance of surviving the surgery.  If he does, he has a
50% chance of that 50 of having the tumor on a non-vital organ.
 
I can't tell you how much it meant to see him.  To have been kissed by
him again.  He slept with us in the bed, curled up, under a little
blanket.  We were all together again and we were happy.  It's been so
long since we've been happy.  Maybe that was the way it was supposed to
be.  Mommy, daddy and Otto again one last time.  I hope I am wrong.  I
will give anything to be wrong.
 
And then:
My beautiful baby boy died today, 6/11/2002.
 
Funeral Blues
W. H. Auden
...
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever; I was wrong.
 
Julie & Phil
[Posted in FML issue 3826]