This is almost too much to bear.  A little less than three months ago,
Phred crossed the Rainbow Bridge.  About a half-hour ago (4:15 p.m.),
Timon crossed the Bridge.  I noticed Timon was having trouble going
potty.  He was grunting and having no luck.  Suspecting a blockage, I
called the Vet and made arrangements to drop him off tomorrow morning.
I wasn't too worried: he seemed fine.  His gate looked good, he had that
spring-in-his-step-happy-hop.  He was lying in a sweatshirt (favorite
place) near my feet, when I heard a yelp.  I picked him up and he looked
like he was in shock.  I called the Vet right away, but he died in my
arms a minute later.
 
Timon was a beautiful silvermitt.  He was the alpha and a bruiser.  He
had a habit of nipping people.  He got me a few times, once requiring 8
stitches to close my lip.  But he could also be very gentle.  He liked to
climb up on me, lick and nibble my left ear.  He always seemed very happy,
always dooking and war dancing.  He was very mischievous.  If anything went
crash, he was most likely nearby.  Shortly after I brought him home, I had
let him run around.  He was flying across the room.  As a kit, he leaped
from the floor to the sofa then back down again.  He lapped the room twice
like this.  He stopped and let out two of the loudest shrieks I have ever
heard.  About a second or two later, we had a 5.4 earthquake.  He continued
to show this talent over the next several quakes.
 
I wrapped him in flannel, and put some food, a squeeze toy and a treat in
a box.  I'll bury him tomorrow on a friend's farm.  These little guys can
really steal your heart, and when they go, there is such a tremendous hole.
I have written to many people who lost their fuzzies, telling them that I
like to think that when a ferret leaves us, there is a new fuzzie for a
baby angel to play with.
 
Phred, take care of Timon, o.k.?
 
Joe
 
Hobbes:  "Dad, why are you crying again?"
[Posted in FML issue 2850]