[Posted in 2 parts which are combined here.  BIG]
 
First of all, I want to again give my most sincere and heartfelt thanks
to all those of you who were so kind and supportive when I lost Toast and
soon after my precious Hamza earlier this year.  Having run a rescue, I
never suspected that the loss would cut me so cleanly to the core.  Much
depression followed, at times quite severe; evaluating my life I reasoned
that, at nearly forty-six, I really didn't need to get another pet, now
or ever ... because the loss was so devastating, and because it seemed
somehow ... a betrayal to Hammy to even consider it.
 
Then came "THE DREAM."  In it, Hamza rose, etherially pale, from his
resting place in our back yard in the shade of very old juniper trees
and mountain holly.  He sniffed at the ground, the lifted his head and
sniffed at the air, narrowing his eyes in concentration.  Then he turned
and looked straight at me.  As he did, his tail bushed up like it always
did when he was happiest and playing, and he ran to me, leaping and
feinting sideways, rolling and dancing.  As he came closer, he lost his
etherial glow and pallor, taking on his rich, full, lusterous sable coat.
When he was near, I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes, and squatted
down to outstretch my hand.  Yes, I knew that he was gone ... but one
does not question a miracle that lives so strongly in one's heart.  He
came ALMOST all the way to my hand, then stopped, eyes flashing, and
darted off a few steps, turning as though wishing me to follow.  He
danced forward and back several times, more excitedly as I rose to
follow.
 
He led me forward, around trees and clumps of grass, until he'd run me
completely around to the front flower bed that I'd planted with bulbs in
early November, looking forward to putting Hammy on his harness to
explore the new spring grass and snowdrops ... the first bloomed on April
15th ... the anniversary of my mother's birthday ... the morning after my
dream.
 
He ran around to the large trees and shrubbery behind the bulbs, and I
stopped, winded and out of breath as he disappeared.
 
I had no sooner straightened up, than I saw him again, coming out from
behind the trees, coaxing something along in front of him ... rolling a
ball?  He stopped and raised his head to look at me ... the mischief
danced in his eyes, and he dooked a little chuckle before returning to
his nose-down pushing of ... what?  As he got closer, moving his way
through the plantings, I saw that it was ...
 
 ... a tiny little ... TINY little ... baby ferret. Every time it tried
to slow down or turn, he gently, but determinedly, moved it forward
towards me.  I lowered myself to the ground, amazed and enthralled with
wonder.  I reached out my hand as they neared, and there they were,
inches from my fingertips again.
 
They stopped, and both Hamza and the wee one looked at me, Hamza's eyes
dewey, seeming to smile, but his mouth quivering ever so sloghtly.  Just
as I felt we might cry together, he lifted his head, scenting at the air
again, then looked pointedly at me.  He brushed against my fingertips ...
I got to touch him again!  Then OFF he bounded, toward the place he'd
been laid, beneath the trees and mountain holly.
 
I stumbled to my feet and ran clumsily, half-blinded by tears, after
him.  I had TOUCHED him ... he couldn't leave me again ... I wanted him
to stay ... or to go with him.
 
We were nearly to his burial place when he stopped, turned and looked at
me as I sank to my knees, tears choking my voice.  It was then I saw the
wee little ferret leaping past, to where Hamza stood, looking wistfully
happy, sorry at the passing of our time, but knowing that the love he
awakened in me, and his memories, would be with me til my own time ended.
In that moment was joy, sorrow, acceptance and love.  In that moment, I
accepted.
 
Hamza dug at the dirt and stones (yes, little love ... once the frosts
are done I will plant your feverfew and tansy ...) and then came back to
me, the wee baby coming with him.  Hamza stopped beside me, leaned upon
me ... I got to pet him one last time ... felt him warm and whole and
glowing with life.  He reached up his face as I leaned down, and licked
the tears from my face as I kissed him one last time, breathing in his
own sweet ferrety scent (each does smell different, you know).  The baby
ferret stopped beside us, and Hamza leaned down and nudged him up into my
lap ... kissed me once more, and returned to his place under the trees.
 
He stopped there and looked back at the wee one and I, and as I looked my
last mortal look at Hammy, as my hand reached down unthinking to comfort
the wee one nuzzling against me ...
 
Hamza's eyes glistened; his colors began to fade into a pale thinning
mist, and I heard his chuckling laughter chiding me ... urging me to love
again.
 
 
After so long working with ferrets, I'd sworn that if I ever DID get a
BABY ferret, as opposed to one from another rescue (RULE # 1: WE DO NOT
KEEP OUR SHELTER PETS!), it would DEFINITELY be one from Kevin & Julie
Groninga at West Valley Wuzzles ... ONLY from them.  Hamza and I used to
look at their website together ... he really liked the mini-cam feature.
 
On March 22, 2003 ... one week after I'd had The Dream ... I wrote to
Kevin & Julie.  Four litters were due ... two that very day and two in
a week.  I asked if I might be put on a waiting list for a little sable
boy.  I'm a several-hours drive away from Kevin and Julie's, but managed
to get down there a couple of weeks later.  The E-mails I'd gotten hadn't
left me too hopeful ... (March 27th) two failed litters ... two to go.
And where was I on the waiting list?  How many ahead of me?  I tried to
tell myself that, because of that dream, Hamza was in charge ... when
the time was right, my little fuzzy would be there for me.
 
One more litter, delivered by C-section, had not had any survivors.  One
litter to go ...
 
March 29, 2003: MUKI IS BORN !  Born on March 29th by Caesarian Section,
he is one of four (and the only male) offspring from the union of Paris
(Mom) and Zevon (Dad, son of Kodiak, grandson of Cornelious ... sounds
Klingon!) of West Valley Wuzzles.  Two previous litters, due the weekend
before, turned out to be false pregnancies.  The litter due the same
weekend as Paris' wee ones only had one kit, and he died shortly after
birth.  I was waiting on tenterhooks for news of Paris and Zevon's
litter, but all I knew until April 4th was that she had an assisted
delivery at the veterenarian's.  Kevin and Julie Groninga,
long-experienced experts in professional breeding, have learned to stay
mum until the kits are a week old, just to make sure all is well.
 
It was a long ride down to the Valley as I kept telling myself that
I just wanted to look, knew I was too far down on the list.  Julie,
usually the one to interview prospective adoptees, was out of state,
but I did get to meet Kevin and their son Krystian, and got a tour of
their set-up ... and got to see such TEEEENY little ferrets.
 
I "officially" left me name and contact information ... and made the long
journey home with no assurances, and only a future hope ... far future
from my dismal seat.  Still ... when the time was right ...
 
April 4, 2003: THE PHONE CALL !  It had been "one of those days" ... with
a vengence.  Preparing to leave my supposed-to-be part-time, turned into
full-time job, trying to wrap everything up and organize the shop I was
managing, completing inventory and the shop uncommonly busy.  I got home
really hoping to cuddle Mr. Jelly-Roll, but he was snoozing much too
peacefully to disturb.  I sighed heavily into the last of my R.C. Cola,
and got busy with housework and dinner preparations.  I was really
missing my little Hamza alot, feeling pretty blue-sy, and THEN it
happened!
 
I picked up the `phone and a voice I almost recognized but couldn't QUITE
place asked for me.  After a day like I'd had, I was expecting someone
with bad news about a relative ... lots of that happening lately, too.
But it was KEVIN GRONINGA!  (Oh no ... the litter ... they didn't make
it ... they ...)  "Julie checked over her adoption list ... (Oh ... thank
God they're o.k. ... and one is a boy!  Well, I'm sure he'll get a great
home ... and ... I'll be high enough on the list sometime by the end of
Summer.) ... said "you've got your little guy ... if you still want him?"
 
There was no air in my lungs.  I did not breathe.  The silence seemed
endless.  I needed to say something, but my brain had left the building.
Then, in a sudden rush of air and blood-flow to my brain, I did the
unthinkable.  I did the uncouth.  I did the immature, idiotic & absurd.
I did something NO woman of 45 is EVER supposed to do; I ...
 
GIGGLED!
 
IF I still wanted him??????
 
The little Mukster is now twn weeks old, and I picked him up the weekend
after Mother's Day.  What a FINE and funny little fellow he is!  Full of
laughter, life and little nips and kisses, he prefers toes, but will
settle for heels (or even ankles) if he really must.  He LOVES his food,
LOVES his playtime, LOVES Mr. Jelly Roll (my elder-fellow who loves him
back in spurts of energy & long periods of quiet where he is content to
just watch the hijinks), LOVES the house, LOVES his tubes (and is already
QUITE adept at climbing & leaping up, down & around) & toys ("Grrrrr!
Attack the little purple kitty!  GRRRRR!") and is fascinated with the
sounds my son's guitar makes when he taps it, touches strings, or
accidently dances smack into it.  And oh what a dancer he is!  And a
talker, too!  Baby ferrets make so many more and different noises than
I'm used to!  And he DEFINITELY knows my voice!  He is very kindly
teaching me to use HIS whenever possible (yes, this does include when
guests come over and look oddly at me).
 
Yes, it is true ... I am quite totally smitten.  And ... interestingly
enough ... although both his mother and father came from loooooong lines
of cinnamon ferrets, Muki-Zuri is a sable; in fact ... he could have been
cloned from Hamza.  Not similar markings ... EXACT.  And that is
something I only found out two weeks ago, long after I'd put my faith in
The Dream ... and gave in to loving again.
 
So ... sorry this post is so AWFULLY long ... but ... well, I don't post
too often, and wanted you all to meet Muki-Zuri (the Mukster), whose name
means "Beautiful bringer of joy and enlightenment."
 
Thanks you again, to all of you ... and (Hey could someone please whisper
this Over The Bridge?) Thank you Hamza, especially to you.
 
Peri
[Posted in FML issue 4174]