Dear all,

It is with the heaviest of hearts that I let my little Zoie go this
morning. She was diagnosed with lymphoma back in March, and despite all
efforts to drive it off, it became too much for her this weekend. She
lost her legs and was just too nauseated to eat anything. Moving her
bowels was painful for her, and her eyes showed just how distressed and
weary she had become. Nothing stopped the disease -- not herbs, not
anti-oxidants, not even chemo. Pred made her comfortable for a couple
of months, but it's heartbreaking how quickly that time went by. With
no measures left to ease her pain, we took her for her last vet visit
and she just drifted off right in my arms. It happened so fast that I
know it couldn't have hurt her. She leaves behind a sister (Pumpkin)
and a brother (Valentine), both of whom are in advanced stages of
lymphoma themselves. She goes to join a distant pair of sisters --
Nikita and Akasha -- who left me years ago before Zoie came to me.

Zoie came to me from FACT over three and a half years ago -- some
family had given her up, and I thank them for their realization that
Zoie would be better off in another home. She was my little princess,
always the first out of the cage and eager to follow Daddy around. A
lovely little lighter sable mitt, she delighted in dancing with my wife
and moving bags around the home by jumping in them. Zoie is the only
ferret I've ever had that wagged her tail when she was excited, which
made a funny rattling sound from inside the dryer hose that we played
with often. She also liked to drink the water from the shower stall and
would often pop in while Daddy was showering. Funny that she never
cared for baths, though.

Last fall, she seemed to lose weight when she should have been gaining,
so I started supplemental feedings with the duck soup (she readily ate
it). She also started having minor difficulties with the stairs in our
house. Then, after the holidays, she crashed in March. The vet found
evidence of an infection, but also enlarged lymph nodes in her abdomen.
A month of serious antibiotic treatment restored her to near normal
behavior, but it didn't shrink the nodes. So I started her on essiac
and pycnogenol and kept that up through the end of May. A follow up
ultrasound showed that the nodes had continued to grow, so we opted for
the Tufts protocol. I had frowned on chemo as the first measure (I've
known too many ferrets who died from the toxicity of chemo drugs), but
I felt we had no choice.

Zoie lasted five weeks on the Tufts protocol before her WBC suddenly
bottomed out at 5% of the normal minimum. She developed a
superinfection, and it looked like we could lose her, but lots of
fluids and antibiotics stabilized her. Once the infection was clear, we
started the pred (we never stopped with the essiac and pycnogenol) and
tried to make each day count as best I could. We moved Zoie and her
sibs into our bedroom over the summer so that I could more easily care
for them (we have a toddler running loose in the house, and she was
too young to respect the little ones' fragile nature). Once her WBC
rebounded some, I started taking Zoie out around our house in the
evenings and weekends. She enjoyed being outside.

But the checkup that showed the rising WBC also showed rising liver
enzymes and serum lipids. A few weeks later, I noticed that she was
eating less on her own and slower to accept the duck soup. The teeth
grinding wasn't far behind, and she really struggled with stairs. By
the middle of last week, it was a real fight to get food into her, and
subQ fluids were becoming routine. Her gait was unsteady, and I knew we
could count the number of days left on a hand. Since she still seemed
interested in poking around and interacting with us, I decided to hold
off on letting her go until after the weekend.

Friday was okay, but Saturday night wasn't. I spent most of Sunday in
the bedroom just being with her, but knowing that the time had come to
let her go. She sat in my lap the long drive to the vet's; and the long
drive back. No matter how much time we had, no matter how long we saw
this coming, nothing helps the devastation at her not being here
anymore. The world has changed now, and I don't know how I am going to
cope with my sweet princess gone away. We have a nice backyard with a
small tree at the far end where I will lay her to rest this week. In
time, her brother and sister will join her there, so they can be
together forever in spirit and en memoriam.

I wish each of you could have known Zoie. She was my little "warrior
princess" and remains so. She is my spirit, and the only consolation I
really have is knowing that when my journey is through in this world,
she'll be waiting for me in the next one. My family is sympathetic,
but I don't think they really understand. Here, I know there is
understanding. If those of you who have made it to the end of this
post would say a small prayer for her spirit, it would mean a lot to
me. I know I gave her a good home, and I know I did all I could -- but
that does nothing to soothe the ache of losing her. Aside from time to
adjust, I know that nothing will.

I love you, Zoie.

John

[Posted in FML 5426]