Bizzy crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning -- held in my arms, released
by her kind vet -- after two weeks of flagyl, pepto, duck soup and sub-q
fluids to treat debilitating diarrhea. She was still able to toddle around
for maybe 5 minutes once or twice a day, but most of the time she preferred
to sleep or rest in my arms or with her girlfriends. She hated being fed
the past few days, and who could blame her when her system would pass the
food almost violently?
Bizzy is one of the first two ferrets I adopted after joining the FML around
the beginning of last February. When I learned about all the unwanted
ferrets in the world, I downloaded Pam Grant's list to find my local
shelters. Within a month or so after calling the nearest shelter to ask to
be put on a list to adopt older/less easily placed rescues, I was called
about Bizzy (6yo DEW) and Baby (4yo sable) whose parents were moving to
Italy. When Sandee arrived at my house to check me out and see how I
treated my store-bought girls, Eloise and Sabine, we discussed the previous
owner's having neglected to mention that Bizzy (an MF ferret) was half naked
and very skinny. Thanks to the FML, I already knew what this meant, and
Eric and I were happy to make an appointment for surgery for Bizzy. (I
don't doubt that the owner loved both his girls and spent a lot of time with
them; it was obvious from many things that became evident about their
personalities and habits. But for some reason he hadn't taken her to a
vet.)
Bizzy lost all her fur after the surgery (last April), but only grew back
most of what she had come with. Her muscle tone improved wonderfully,
however, and she delighted in chasing my feet endlessly, giving them a
gentle nibble so they'd know she had caught them. This summer we began
treating her for a chronic vaginal infection, and the vet predicted that she
had an impaired immune system which would continue to evidence itself. Sure
enough, the infection could only be controlled but not cured. She also
began to lose hair again, but both this vet and the one who had done her
surgery felt that at age 7 it was better to let her enjoy the life she had
without further surgery. When she got the runs, I thought she'd caught a
tummy bug from the others (now 10 others) who'd caught it from me. By this
week, I was sure that there was something wrong with her system.
In spite of all our efforts, Bizzy looked literally like an inmate of
Auschwitz, and she was growing weaker. Her spirit never flagged and her
sweetness never failed, but the quality of her life was reduced to very few
marginally normal minutes a day. I do not believe in waiting until a dying
animal begins to suffer miserably, so Eric, Rebecca and I have been
discussing letting her go for two days. I prayed for clear guidance from
the vet when Bizzy went back for her appointment today, and the vet said
every single thing I had been thinking about Bizzy's condition and her
prospects for the future. He is sure that if he had done an autopsy (which
there is no good reason to perform ... therefore, I will not disturb her
body further) he would find "a lot of pathology."
Bizzy will be buried today between two of my yellow rose bushes (yellow for
joy) and near my statue of St. Francis. Her sweet face won the heart of
everyone who met her, even those indifferent to ferrets, in spite of the
pink nakedness of the back 2/3 of her body. She was loved for at least 6
years by her first owner and for 1 year by our family. She was a character,
she was a lady, and she is already deeply missed.
A cheerful note: Esme', the little girl I was so fearful of losing during
insulinoma surgery, has had a personality transformation. She is *chasing
and attacking the boys* and never walks anywhere if she can trot or run
instead. The minxish spirit that sometimes danced for joy and teased me
until I would chase her is strong now that she has a stronger body to
display her feelings. I can hardly feel her ribs anymore, and I have told
her I want her to get fat like Sabine next winter.
[Posted in FML issue 1883]
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