Dear Beloved Bumble,
 
It's a week and a day now since you left for the Rainbow Bridge, and I've
been crying most of the time since we said farewell.  You seemed to be
doing so well since your surgery for bladder infection, playing and kissing
and being even more loving than ever...so much loving.  You got to see the
little red-tinseled Christmas tree I put up for you on November 30th, but
after I decorated the mantle on December 1 and went to let you fuzzies out
of your cage, you just lay there, awake but quiet and limp.  I called a cab
and rushed you to the emergency clinic, and you perked up enough to look
out at the traffic and give me lots of kisses even though you were so weak.
The vets there knew you well from your prior stay, and did their best for
you, but the Bad Thing that caused your bladder infection had spread
throughout your body and you were losing blood internally.  All the time
you seemed to be doing so well, during those five optimistic weeks, you
were in fact dying.  At the most, you would have had a few days left on
IV's.  But because you didn't want to eat or drink or even take your
Furrovite or delicious antibiotic anymore, the vets said that it would be
better if you could go to sleep peacefully.
 
So on Wednesday I sat and held you for a long time.  You drifted off
several times, but each time you awoke you raised your head and gave me
many of your special Frenchie kisses that leave my lips tingling.  It was
a warm, bright and beautiful day for December 2nd in Wisconsin, more like
spring than winter, except the leaves were brown.  The lovely female vet
and I moved with you out to an open back porch under some shade so the sun
wouldn't be too bright in your tired eyes, and I cuddled and kissed you and
told you how deeply loved you were and always would be.  While you gave me
one last kiss, the vet injected the pink euthanasia fluid into a little
catheter already in your forearm, and you fell gently and swiftly asleep.
I wept so hard...did your Spirit, on its way to the Bridge, happen to
glance back and see me cuddling and rocking your poor little body?  I
wished then that I belonged to some more primitive society so I could feel
free to scream my grief for all of earth and heaven to hear.
 
I asked the vet for a necropsy, because I thought it might help other
ferrets in the future.  The initial findings were advanced lymphosarcoma,
but the detailed findings are yet to come.  Your body will be cremated
individually and I will keep the ashes in a jade urn on the mantle under
your picture.  They'll be buried with my own ashes when my time comes.  In
the meantime, I'm going to adopt a little homeless fuzzy from a wonderful
shelter, the Ferret Nook.  You must know no one will ever replace you,
Bumble, but I want to do something positive in your memory.  Your
girlfriends miss you very much, especially Grizz, who is just as gentle as
you, and I hope she can make room in her heart for a new friend who needs a
home for Christmas.
 
I've been visiting the Rainbow Bridge and pet loss grief counseling
websites.  I guess I was a little mixed up about the Bridge before...I
thought you crossed over it when you passed away.  Rather, you wait and
play in the lovely meadows and hills on this side, and wait there for us
poky humans to catch up so we can cross over together.  That's nice.  I'll
have to try to be real good, as good as you were, so I'm allowed to go
over.  Maybe you can put in a good word for me?  Meanwhile, I'm making a
list of all the other fuzzies who went to the Bridge about the same time
you did, so I know who's playing with you in the Newcomers' Group.
 
I'll try to make Christmas as fun as it can be for Grizz and Hopper and
Blanche and our own Newcomer, but your darling face will always be the last
thing I see when I fall asleep and the first I see when I wake up.  I miss
you so much, Bumble.
 
Love Now and Forever,
Mommy
[Posted in FML issue 2520]