I specifically remember early in the holiday season, thanking God for
the current health status of all of my family two legged as well as
four, ..shamefully admitting I was most thankful for the health of the
four leggers knowing how prone they are to so many diseases. My elder
kids continue to motor along being completely content with nothing more
than a couple shelves of comfy sleep sacks, food, water, gravy and
pooing wherever they please. The youngsters bound and play in spite of
the mellow laid back kids who prefer to simply meander around enjoying
cuddles and back rubs and Abby,....well Abby, I am convinced has
reached maximum improvement regarding her biting behavior after being
slapped around by the breeder she was rescued from last year. She'll
play, lick ferretone from your hand, take goodies ever so gently from
between your fingers,...but pick her up and her quivering body begins
looking for any exposed flesh to latch on to. Both houses of the rescue
kids get along wonderfully and only one at the moment needs adrenal
surgery. Their health was motoring along at an even keel . I could ask
for no greater gift especially during the holidays which are already
difficult enough to get through after my mom's passing nearly four
years ago and all of the family turmoil that has ensued since,...not to
mention this stupid foot situation and the remodeling project in the
new ferret room I am facing.

With no warning, about last Wednesday, Webster started pancaking. I
observed him closely for a couple days...eating, drinking, pooping.....
and pancaking. Saturday night, the pooping and peeing was interrupted
and late that night, I received a message hitting me over the head like
a cast iron skillet. ...blockage,, blockage, blockage....and I rushed
him to the ER, certain that my gut feeling was right on the money. En
route to Hickory, he feverishly pawed at the carrier protesting his
confinement and bit the edges wanting out..a good sign...he was full
of energy enough to do this but would then begin to pant. I squeezed
my fingers into the carrier and he held them between his little paws.
That was when I was presented with the shocking findings of the xrays
indicating that we were probably looking at lymphoma. Prognosis? Two
days,... two months. After a gut wrenching fit of tears, I moved into
the mode of hope and started with the herbal treatment waiting for my
regular vet to open on Christmas Eve. While she tended to agree and
felt the same lumpy mass that I had before I rushed him to the ER, we
decided to biopsy on the 26th to confirm what we were looking at. It
was the only way. I was fortunate, for the first time in a long time to
have my nephew Zach with me for the day. We spent the morning giving
the triplets their Christmas presents and taking lots of pictures....
something just told me to do this. Webster enjoyed an N Bone that was
sent by a secret Santa. He curled up in a cuddle cup sent by another
secret santa while his brothers bounded around him making even a video
clip very difficult. Even in the still shots I took of Zach holding the
threesome, Webster can be seen looking to the sky as if he was silently
being called away from us. Even after the vet informed me of her
findings, saying that she did not even feel safe attempting a biopsy of
the 4x6" tumor that enveloped his entire mesentery system, I kept my
hopes up, trying to erase the image from my mind of what a 4x6 inch
tumor in his abdomen could possibly look like....even in a ferret of
his size. The vet and I agreed on the herb formula treatment and
draining the fluid from his chest cavity as necessary, probably every
couple of months. If Timmy could get through lymphoma that spread to
his liver , surely Webster could pull through this as he was so full of
spunk. On the way home, I caught him working on a stitch. After brewing
up his tea, I attempted his first feeding which he hungrily gobbled
down as I cradled him in my arms. My nephew Zach was with me and he was
the first to notice a little trickle of watery blood oozing from the
incision line. "Look Aunt Kim,...that's not good." he commented with
all the tone of a certified veterinarian....my little rescue buddy was
back...

We applied a compress with mild pressure and it stopped. An hour later
a tiny piece of flesh began peeking out and I was on the road again to
the vet. In the time it took to get there, 20 minutes probably, his
innards were hanging out where he had succesfully nipped a knot in his
incision. I've heard of this before...they can fix it...they'll flush
it, put him back together, this time with staples he can't gnaw his way
through and we will be back in action,....but Webster had other plans.
A teary eyed doc greeted me in the exam room apologizing and informing
me that he "coded" during the procedure and they were not able to bring
him back. They brought him to me to spend as much time with him as I
wanted, my four pound cotton puff full of spunk and energy, that would
normally fight me at every attempt for a cuddle, now lifeless wrapped
in a sterile teri cloth towel, his tortilla chip natural ferrety aroma
replaced with the stench of rubbing alcohol... but he seemed to rest as
if in a peaceful sleep, free of pain and discomfort and allowing me,
for the first time to cuddle him as long as I wanted. I can't remember
the last time I cried so hard over a ferret to the point of hyper
ventilation. Nearly all the kids that had recently passed were elderly
and "expected". He spoke to me...he told me that I was not wrong when I
got the message..."blockage"...that I just misinterpreted..."I did have
a blockage, you big silly,...my entire system was a giant blockage."
He told me he yanked that knot in his stitches on purpose,...that he
took the action that I would not in my hope to save him. He knew better
than me and he was ready to go, in spite of what I wanted. I let his
brothers say goodbye. They sniffed and walked away seeming unphased,
probably knowing what I refused to accept,. that he had a higher
purpose to be fulfilled sooner than I would like. I laid with him most
of the night, cradled next to my head in bed, my ritual of mourning
with all of my furkids. I stay with them during their transition in
crossing to the other side. Gilda Snuffledooks informed me that she
would greet him. Thank you all for your support. Here are the links
to Webby's last enjoyments with us....

 ....and btw, this is the second incident of cancer among the Miller
ferrets that we rescued last year, who no doubt are continuing their
crappy breeding practices with all the care of our famous large scale
"farms", randomly throwing pairs together unaware of one blood line to
the next, probably even breeding close blood relations. Incidentally,
this comment, although I fell is noteworthy, is in no way an invitation
to some huge debate or worm can opening and I will not engage further.
The people involved with breeding in the Miller circle know who they
are, as I do and shame on them for enabling them and allowing this
to continue. My point in even mentioning this is that these types of
cancers go hand in hand with bad breeding practices. I am praying
at this point that the remaining brothers will not be genetically
pre-disposed to juvenile lymphoma also. They have been started on the
tonic as a pre-caution which I feel is the only hope for prevention.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHVcFm47i-g#GU5U2spHI_4

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGdf9FpVB5o&feature=user

Kimberly Fox
Somethin Up My Sleeve Ferret Rescue
http://companiontalk.terrabox.com/SUMS-Rescue.html
Pay Pal accepted for donations at this email address.
http://companiontalk.terrabox.com/SUMS-tilesoflove.html Fundraiser page

[Posted in FML 5835]