Hi everyone.
 
I've never posted before, though I've lurked for a long time, and responded
to many people in private.
 
I just wanted to share the story of a special little boy whom I had for all
too short a time but who will *never* leave my heart.
 
On the 17th, my shelter mom got in a bunch of ferrets rescued from a
back-yard breeder.  I promptly picked out a sweet little DEW/sterling
silver male (not yet altered, I had a neuter contract.) re-named him Tucker
as his old name didn't suit and brought him home the 19th.  He was horribly
thin from a diet of generic cat food and his hind legs had atrophied from
being kept in a 2x2x2 breeding cage.  He wasn't allowed out of it to play,
he had no social interaction with humans (yet, oddly enough didn't bite.
Never even offered me a tooth once!), and only saw other ferrets if he was
being bred.
 
I brought him home and turned him loose in the apartment, since I already
have 4 and knew it was safe enough for a sick little guy like him to
explore.  Oh, the dooking!!!  He was convinced he was in heaven!  He found
the water bowl I keep down for all the animals and tried to take a bite
out of the water.  Which is how I figured out he'd never drunk from a bowl
before.  I laughed myself silly watching him try to figure out how to get
the water *out* of the bowl and *into* his mouth without dunking his nose
in it!  He *did* eventually sort it out.  The first night, I kept him in a
crate apart from the others and he had a selection of no fewer than four
foods to choose from.  I gave him crushed Iams Kitten, some soft cat food
with gravy (the chunky chicken sort), some chicken baby food and some
turkey gravy similar to Bob C.'s chicken gravy.  Again, pure heaven.  He
didn't eat a lot, but he sampled everything.  And he was drinking quite
well, so I, of course, thought he was doing ok.  We did intros the next day
since everyone came from the same shelter and had been exposed to the same
things.  Once my little sprite had a "chat" with him about who belonged
where, there wasn't a single problem.  He and my albino twins (a sprite and
a gib, not related) became a threesome almost immediately.  They taught him
to play follow the leader and how to hide from Mom and generally did all
that they could do to make him feel welcome, including curling up with him.
I was well aware of his hind end weakness, but, though I was a *little*
concerned, was fairly sure it was the atrophy that made him fall all the
time.  I also noticed that he was grinding his teeth a bit, which I put
down to the fact that his tummy hurt from the traveller's diarrhea and
shelter shock (which I treated with alternating doses of Pepto and
Kaopectate, 1cc, 3 times daily).  As he seemed to be improving every day,
I wasn't terribly concerned about the amount of time he spent sleeping.
I thought he was just weak from all that he'd been through.
 
I was so wrong.  I found him in a coma at a bit after 3 pm and rushed him
to my shelter mom, as the Emergency clinic here would simply have
euthanized him.He passed away in my arms at roughly 6:05 pm on Christmas
day, about 4 seconds after I kissed him goodbye between the ears... we did
all we could for him... pred, electrolytes, everything.  But the insulinoma
was too advanced and he never really came out of the coma.
 
Yet, when I think back on the time I had with him, I can't help but smile
through the tears.  Because for those 7 days, the last 7 of his life... he
was *happy* He had all he wanted to eat, he was rarely caged because he
loved being out so very much and was no trouble at all when he was out.  He
slept so much you didn't even know he was there.  Always in the same box
of clothes in my closet too, which made him very easy to find for whatever
reason, usually to be scooped up, stuffed in a fleece lined snuggle sack
and held for as long as he was willing to stay in my lap and be typed
around.  He had friends to play with for the first time ever (he was about
two and a half years old.), and he was loved.  And he knew it.  So, despite
the pain he must have been in (the tooth grinding) he was happy.  Always
ready to come out of the cage, loved the twins, got along well with my
sable gib...
 
So, despite the pain I'm feeling, I also feel a lot of joy, and I don't
regret adopting him for one single moment, though my shelter mom told me
that she'd never have let me take him if she'd known he was sick.  I called
her back later (after he passed) and thanked her for letting me have the
time with such a sweet, wonderful, *loving* ferret.  I suppose that sounds
odd, but... *I* got to be the one to make his last few days happy, and
that's a gift I can never repay.  ***Please*** don't judge my shelter mom
too harshly.  I was taking him in for his vet check the following Monday,
once I had the money.  No one at all knew he was sick, as she only had him
for two days, and I hadn't had a chance to take him in.  Not that it would
likely have done any good, it was just too advanced.  The others were
acting in a very similar manner, but all of them seem fine, eating well and
getting use of their legs back.  There was *no way at all* to tell that he
had the insulinoma while the others were "only" atrophied and malnourished.
 
If you feel that flames are necessary, please direct them to me privately.
There's no need to clutter the list with "why wasn't he vet checked before
you got him," etc.  Because I insisted on taking him home right away,
that's why!
 
I just wanted to share the fact that I got to spend 7 wonderful days with
a sweet little boy and make his passing a little easier with everyone.  If
you've read this far, thank you for letting me babble.
 
BIG, thanks so much for all your hard work on the list.  You have no idea
how much you're appreciated.
 
I hope everyone has had absolutely wonderful holidays this year, and wish
you all the best for the new year, and your fuzzies too!  My best to those
who've lost any of their kids (Kevin, my sympathies.  <hug>) and I'm
praying for any sick furkids out there.
 
Erin and her fearsome foursome, missing Tucker very much.
 
P.S. Again, please keep the flames private and to *ME ONLY*, even if you
know who my shelter mom is.  She's *more* than devestated enough for
letting me adopt a sick ferret!!!!!  Let's leave her out of it, the
decision to bring him home immediately was mine as I was certain I could
handle "atrophy and malnutrition."  BIG, anyone who mentions a shelter or
a name?  Please XXX it out.  Thanks.
[Posted in FML issue 2910]