ALFALFA - Beloved Ferret - May 15, 1995 - January 7, 2003
 
My little Al died last Tuesday afternoon.  I knew it was coming, so I
should have been ready, but it really hit me hard.  I haven't been able
to talk or write about him before now.
 
I went out to do midday errands, and when I got back and went to check on
Al, he wasn't in his hammock.  I found his body lying under the Christmas
tree.  He looked so weak yesterday morning that I had actually asked him
if it was time for him to go, but I couldn't tell what he felt.  Maybe he
wasn't sure.  Al would have been eight years old in May, so he lived a
pretty long life for a ferret, although I don't think he enjoyed his last
6 months very much.  He was so stoic that it was hard for me to tell how
much he was suffering.  He had good days and bad days.  On a good day he
still liked to get out and explore the house and pester Sebastian, my
cat.  But Al never complained even when he was obviously hurting, like
the time he ripped his toenail out after it got stuck in the cage.  Not
a peep out of him.  So I couldn't tell how much he was suffering toward
the end.  I hope it wasn't too much.
 
Al was my first ferret.  Clover came first, but she was really the
kids' ferret; I got Al to keep her company.  I still remember the day I
brought him home, he was an adorable silver mitt baby, who later lost
most of his silver and became a beautiful 3-pound DEW.  Al was always
the cantankerous one, from kit-hood on.  It took him two years to stop
biting.  He never bit hard, but something about the feel of soft skin
made him want to use his teeth.  He would really startle me sometimes if
I sat down on the bed while I was getting dressed; he'd sneak up behind
me and bite my bare back!  I think he finally understood that it hurt and
he suddenly stopped, never to bite again - people anyway.  He was hell on
wheels for the cats, who used to run when they saw Al coming.
 
Al had way more than his share of health problems; fate wasn't kind to
him.  He had surgery to remove an adrenal tumor when he was only 2 years
old.  Poor Al, we didn't know the symptoms then, and we were scolding him
for chewing on the ears of his cage mates during the night.  We thought
it was just crazy Al being his weird little self.  We treated him for a
urinary tract infection, and when it came back, that's when our vet
finally realized what the real problem was (he was a good vet, but not as
up on ferrets as could have been).  Then when Al was between 4 and 5, my
(new, ferret-knowledgeable) vet discovered a mass on Al's spleen and said
that it would have burst within a month or so, killing him with internal
bleeding!  Luckily, he was able to remove it, along with Al's spleen.
Then I almost lost him after the surgery when he stopped eating.  The
antibiotic was upsetting his tummy, and he wouldn't eat anything.  He
got so skinny and weak!  But he suddenly started eating again after we
took him off the meds.  He bounced back and had a good, happy year.  Then
he developed insulinoma and anemia when he was 6, and then when he was
almost 7, my vet discovered another tumor in his abdomen that he said
was inoperable.  Al spent the last year of his life taking more and more
medication for all his maladies, gradually getting weaker and thinner and
losing his hair.  He kept eating his kibble, despite recurring gingivitis
that made his mouth sore, but he was too weak for anesthesia to have his
teeth cleaned again.  Finally, his little body just gave out on him.
 
When I found him under the Christmas tree, I brought the others over to
say their goodbyes.  Their reactions were mixed.  Clover, his life-long
pal, turned her back and curled up and went to sleep (sadness?  maybe
she had found his body before I got home and already knew).  Two of the
others licked his ears and checked him over, then went on their way.
Bucky licked Al's ears then rested his head across Al's shoulders for a
minute, then moved on.
 
I wrapped Al in a blankie put him in a shoe box coffin, then Sprouts came
over and started pawing at the blankie, so I opened it up.  Sprouts
climbed in and curled up on top of Al's body, as if he was trying to keep
him warm.  He stayed there for a long time, so I let him be.  Then I
walked by the coffin a little later and Bucky was curled up in there
instead of Sprouts.  They both licked Al's ears again too.  I guess they
were taking turns saying their goodbyes.  All the ferrets were subdued
that night; I'm sure they were sad.
 
You would think that not having to give Al his meds four times a day, and
not having to watch for his poop everywhere because he couldn't hold it,
would be a relief.  But these are only constant reminders that he is
gone.  And I haven't yet been able to break myself of the habit of
leaving my walking shoes in front of the step up from the entryway to the
kitchen because Al was too weak to hop up the step and needed them to
climb up.  I miss you, little buddy!
 
Sandee, please help Al find his brother Ferret Beuhler, who crossed the
Bridge two years ago just before Christmas.  And his friends Tucker and
Chickie, who came to our house numerous times over the years to play.
And Miss Daisy, who spent an all-too-brief time with us before she
crossed the Bridge 4 years ago.  Daisy never had any other ferret buddies
here, so I'm sure she will be so happy to see Al again.  And, last but
not least, if you have any access to the canine realm, please let my old
dog Tor know that Al has crossed the Bridge.  Tor loved Al (he carried Al
around by the tail when he was a kit!) and will be so happy to see him
again.  And the thought of Al feeling good, with all his weight back on
and a full, fluffy coat of white fur, running and playing, makes me happy
too!
 
Al, you are sorely missed by all those you left behind.  We'll see you
one day...
 
Nancy and critters
[Posted in FML issue 4026]