I never in a million years thought I'd be writing one of these posts,
at least not this soon.  My boy Charlie (aka, Destructo- Monster) died
suddenly last night.  I had had a feeling for the past day or so that
something was not quite right, but it was nothing I could put my finger
on.  Yesterday morning, he refused his morning treat of Chicken Soup cat
food, but just the night before he had polished off his duck soup with
alactrity.  I also noticed that he was sleeping on the floor of the
kitchen instead of in his cage, which was unusual, but I just chalked it
up to it being warmer in the house than it usually is.  Then about 9:30
last night, we were watching TV and my husband heard Charlie struggling
for air.  We immediately started heading for the emergency vets, but he
was gone before we even got in the car.
 
The vet did a necropsy on him, and called me about midnight to let me
know that he died of a massive tumor in his chest, which was compressing
his heart and lungs and depriving him of oxygen.  I'm still in shock that
there could be something THAT wrong with the little guy, and he never
showed a sign until the day he died.  I feel so guilty that I didn't see
it coming and take him in earlier in the day.  But at the same time, I
don't know that we could have saved him anyway.  I guess maybe it was
just his time to go, and I'm glad that he didn't have to suffer for long.
 
Charlie was only about 11 months old, a dark sable coat, and more
"ferretude" than any creature I know.  If there was something that could
be gotten into, he'd get into it.  If there was something to be spilled,
he'd spill it.  If there was anything that could possibly be knocked
over, climbed up on, shredded, pooped on, or snorkeled in, then Charlie
was your man.  If you had any exposed skin to nip, he'd find that too.
He loved those little mini tennis balls, and would spend hours rescuing
them from his brother Linus, and making sure they were safetly tucked
away in HIS favorite hidey-hole.  Charlie was a weasel's weasel, and
we're going to miss him.
[Posted in FML issue 5202]