Although I know what you're talking about, Dodie, I think you're
forgetting something.  Ferret people learn about raw comedy and simple
joy, innocence and sadness, just by co-existing with their guys.
 
When my guys leave me, one by one, I will miss every yawn, every dook,
and every war dance.
 
I will miss Nava, my little climber, who helps me to pick her up by
wrapping her front legs around my wrist - the only one of the bunch who
ever learned to do that.  Always upward and onward for her...
 
I will miss the comedy of Bonehead, our big-headed kit, who twists and
jumps and flies, and is constantly falling off or onto something, because
he just can't experience life fast enough... Thank God for his big, bone
head...
 
I will miss Cubby, the complete opposite of Bonehead.  He's a bit older,
but still just a kit and afraid of everything.  He trusts us more and more
each and every day, though.  We only wish we knew what happened to him to
make him this way, so we might be able to fix it.  As I type, he's lying
safely underneath the dresser, nose sticking out, watching out - always
watching out...
 
I will miss Taz, my long, lean begging machine, who can stand up straight
as a yardstick for red licorice - a business weasel, if there ever was
one - a leader who keeps all the others in line...
 
I will miss our first Sammy, who died in an accident, another business
weasel, who could have shown Taz a thing or two, if he had ever got to
meet him...
 
I will miss Cappy, who died of a freak illness but tried so hard to make
it.  We didn't have him anywhere near long enough.  Near the end, he tried
so hard to walk, and never accepted that his hind legs just didn't work,
anymore... a kit and an old man, all at the same time...
 
And I will miss my wise old lady, Mocha, the original cagemate of Cappy,
who just didn't understand that he was gone.  When we laid his body on our
bed after he died, Mocha crawled up and did a playful war dance around
him, trying to get him to play, and then stopped and nudged him with her
nose when he didn't, puzzled why he still wanted to sleep when he could be
playing... [I don't think I ever saw anything as sad and as poignant as
that]
 
I will miss Farrah, my old lady, abused and starved by her first owner,
who finally in the last year of her life was able to do a war dance, and
start to become a ferret again... I remember feeding her our form of duck
soup with an eyedropper until she ate enough to take it off of a small
spoon.  Pretty soon the spoon wasn't fast enough, and she ate right out of
the baby food jar... We keep jars of baby food around to this day, even
though we don't need them anymore...
 
I will miss our second Sammy, my old guy [given that name by his first
owners] who we thought had adrenal tumors, but had kidney tumors instead.
The surgery that was supposed to save his life ended up being the cause
of his death.  But until the end, you would never know he was bothered by
what was wrong with him.  He ate treats, wrested with the other ferrets,
and moved pretty damn fast for a ferret with a tumor-filled pot belly.
The only time you would know anything was wrong was when he was sleeping.
We didn't understand it at first.  We would hear little squeaks and wake
up startled, only to find him sleeping, as if nothing was wrong...
 
I will miss Dusty, who as a kit, slept so much of the time in a knitted
winter cap that I thought that there might be something wrong with him.
Nothing wrong with him now, though.  Almost three pounds of beautiful,
healthy, silver ferret, with sweet black eyes that always land him
whatever treats he begs for...
 
I will miss Smokey, our big baby, who still tries to find a nipple on my
feet, on the inside of my elbow, and on my mustache - anywhere he thinks
he can find one.  I imagine he will be 5 years old, and still looking for
his momma.  My wife and I will always be glad to be the parents of this
handsome cream-colored boy... our gentle sweet baby...
 
I will miss Deezel, our first ferret - a truck ferret, no less!  Even at
five years old, she still wrestles with us, and has the best wrestling
grip of any of our ferrets, even for an older girl.  She has the most
unusual and beautiful Chinese-looking markings on her eyes.  I've never
seen a ferret with eyes like hers.  Her fur color changes dramatically
from season to season, but those Chinese eyes always stay the same, as
if put there with mascara.  Our classy First lady, the start of our life
with ferrets...
 
And maybe, most of all, I will miss Powerpuff... our trouble-maker who can
figure out how to get into anything, if given enough time and opportunity!
Simply jump down off the bed or the couch?  Why jump down when you can
stretch out your paws and fly?!  [hence the name, Powerpuff, my little
super-heroine] But as rough and tumble as she is, she daintily closes her
eyes when she eats, just like a month-old kit.  And hold her in your arms,
and she's content to stay with you as long as you want, as if she knows
that there will be other times for flying...
 
Now, what's the point of all this?  To brag about my guys?  To wallow in
my sadness?  Maybe somewhat... I'm human.
 
But it's more than that...
 
It's to show that amidst all the sorrow is all the joy.  You can't
separate one from another.  It's a package deal.  We live and then we die.
I'm only glad I'm fortunate enough to experience my guys, from their war
dances to their last breaths.  We're all cagemates in this house.They need
me.  And I need them, too - maybe more.
 
Without them, my life would have been less.
 
Roary
Albuqueque, New Mexico
[Posted in FML issue 3774]