Tonight I sit down to write the post that I have never ever been able to
imagine myself writing.  Our precious little girl is gone.
 
Our little Weezie lost her battle with adrenal disease.  About two years
ago, she began showing the classic pattern of hair loss.  Our vet had the
adrenal panel run on her, but her results were negative.  The hair loss
became more extreme over time, and finally our vet decided to do
exploratory surgery.  But there was nothing visible on the adrenals to
remove.  So he took out her spleen instead, which was terribly enlarged,
and sewed her back up again.  Weezie seemed to be quite stressed and
frightened by the whole experience, although we have the gentlest and
kindest vet in the world, and she really liked him (and he liked her, too).
She rallied after awhile, and behaved like her usual self for almost all
her remaining time on Earth.  It was only in the last few months that we
could see a gradual pear-shaped enlargement of her lower body, showing the
presence of an adrenal tumor.  We were grieved to find that it was on the
right side.  And our precious one was already seven years old.  We made the
difficult decision to not put her through another operation.  Despite her
increased weight, she still continued to make her way around the house on
her patrols, although she moved slowly and would tire quickly.  I would
pick her up and cuddle her for awhile on the sofa, then carry her back to
her blankie.  She gradually lost more and more control over her
elimination, until finally we were finding little accidents everywhere.
Still, she tried so hard to be good (and she was).  She continued to eat
until the last two days, when she refused even her malt-flavored medicine
and would not take her favorite treat, a raisin.  We held her in our arms.
I petted her, kissed her, and talked to her until the end.  She slipped
away from us so quietly.
 
Weezie was our only child, and the only ferret we have ever had.  She
introduced us to the wonder and the magic of the weasel world six years
ago, when we adopted her from a young college student.  She brought us
so much laughter and joy.  When other parents would discuss their human
children, we would talk on and on about our Weezie-- "PeeToos Peetoos
Weezie"... "Pinky Butt-Butt." She loved to play chasing games, and enjoyed
her kitty tease toy with much gusto and enthusiastic dooking (but she would
always end up chasing my feet instead).  Her favorite toy was a little
Dogbert, which she would carry around from one hiding place to another.
She especially loved telephone cord keychains, rolled-up socks, and beanie
babies.  She was constantly rearranging her toys underneath the desk,
beneath our beds, and behind the sofa.  One time she stashed two piles of
treasures in my closet-- all her keychains in one pile and all her sock
balls in another.  She loved raisins, bananas, honey, and FerretVite.  One
Christmas she was even able to smell a sealed bag of craisins inside a
sealed tupperware bowl, wrapped in wrapping paper.  She liked to play
chasing games with me, and enjoyed our little remote-controlled car, which
she would pursue, wardancing and trying to bite the tires.  She loved to
propel herself along the edge of the carpet, letting the fringes slide
across her face as she motored along with her nose digging into the floor.
She did not like my screeching woodwind instruments, and interrupted each
of my practice sessions with hissing and dramatic displays of annoyance
(she always won out).  Every night, she climbed up on my bed, bed-surfed
under the covers, and curled up to sleep with me, usually by my feet.  She
delighted in grooming me for hours on end, although I was allergic to her
and broke out in countless rashes.  Still, I loved those nibblings and
kisses.  She was a sweet little tyke who loved everyone, always wanted to
cuddle, and NEVER bit.  She was so good, our baby girl.
 
Oh, the house is so silent and empty now!  We miss her so much.  She is in
our garden now, laid to rest on a bed of pink roses, with all the raisins
she will ever want.  We wrapped her in her own little mummy case, which we
inscribed with our symbols and messages.  There is a little stepping-stone
there, with her name and footprints.
 
Dear SANDEE... Please watch for our precious one.  She is a tiny sable
girl with a pink nose and a little kink in her tail.  I hope you find her
somewhere in the Summerland on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.  I
told her to look for my aunt and uncle, who will take care of her until I
can rejoin her.
 
with tears in my eyes
and love for all,
 
"Isabel Two"
[Posted in FML issue 3324]