Dear Ferret Folks-

Sometime between Saturday night and Sunday morning my sweet Hebert,
just a little shy of a year old made his Bridge Crossing. On one level
we were absolutely shocked. He was just a boy, just a boy. But for
those of us who knew him well and cared for him on a daily basis his
leave-taking doesn't seem as remarkable as it might for another ferret
of his age.

I have remarked here on the FML several times that Hebert never
seemed...*right.* He was baffled by simple concepts, skills that are
inborn and seemingly effortless for every other ferret that I have ever
known. He and I spent long afternoons together, me teaching him with a
package of N-Bones that every plastic play tube has an in, *and* an
out. They were toys, not traps. It was such a triumph when he finally
understood that he could run through them, back and forth, and feel the
press of the wind against his whiskers. Such a blessing to be able to
re-attach the overhead tube network to the side of the cage so that the
boys could always run, even if we weren't around. In terms of daily
life every hill was a mountain for him, and every mountain was Everest.
He gained one summit at a time, and planted his little victory flags
far and wide. He never learned to jump, but he tried. He tried.

Last week my husband and I noticed that Hebert was sleeping a lot more
than Todd was. Well, Todd is full of beans. Dealing with Todd on Todds
terms might tire me out, too! The two of them used to run from on end
of the house to the other, leaping and rolling and pouncing. It
practically made the furniture bounce across the floor! We just
chalked it up to another of Hebert's peculiarities.

On Saturday night I remarked to my husband that Hebert wasn't running
about much that night. We let the boys out for Romp and Stomp at the
usual time, but Hebert was keeping a low profile. At bed-time it became
clear that he was under our bed. That was one of his very favourite
places. He liked it so much that even a squeakie didn't typically lure
him out of there.

We grumbled, but accepted the situation. We put Todd back in the cage
and went to bed, closing our bedroom door behind us as a barrier
between Hebert and the dog, who opted to sleep beside the wood stove
that night. We wondered aloud about just what awful hour of the night
Hebert would re-appear and need attention. As it happened, he surfaced
at around 11:30 PM. I reached down and picked him up. He wasn't happy
about it, wanted to get down and play. I walked him to the cage, and
he climbed into a hammie with Todd.

I went to let the boys out at about 9:00 AM the next morning, and made
the sad discovery. He and Todd were snuggled together, but Hebert had
left for the Bridge sometime in the night.

I have since taken Todd to the vet for a thourogh physical. They say
that he is just fine. Thriving, actually. I was able to provide them
with a sample of Hebert's poo, and it showed no abnormalitles. No
blood, no ECE, nothing like that. His last poos were a bit soft, almost
pudding-like (that became the norm after I switched him to Totally
Ferret) but they gave no evidence of a blockage. We saw no pencil-lead
or ribbon forms. We never saw Hebert grind his teeth, paw at his mouth,
or vomit. He never lost his appetite. He had all of his fur. And no, my
dog was not involved in his death.

The vet believes, and so do I that one of the biggest clues as to
what might have happened to him was his expression when I found him.
Clearly, he did not slip away in his sleep. He left this life with
fangs bared, as if overcome by some convulsive force. Without a
necropsy (I simply couldn't do it, couldn't let them dis-assemble
Hebert for the sake of my curiousity) her best guess is a cardiac
event. That is consistent with his recent tiredness, and that last
night when he didn't have it in him to Romp and Stomp with Todd. A
heart attack, or perhaps some congenital defect that might be linked
to the apparent developmental problems that he suffered.

Whatever happened, I am grateful to have shared our lives with him. He
was so sweet, so silly, sleeping with his ankles up around his ears...
stashing my sneakers beneath the yellow sofa over and over and over
again as if they were dangerous and I must be protected from them....
sloooowly climbing down from the green armchair (a vertiginous two foot
drop!) as if he were scaling El Capitan in Yellowstone...he was a good
boy, a good boy.

Todd seems OK, but I am a wreck, having seen Puma lose all interest in
life after losing her Ping. We're just taking things one day at a time
here. I am grateful that I got to share Hebert with all of you. He will
not be forgotten, not by those fortunate enough to have known him.
Somewhere, he is leaping, leaping.

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6296]