This is a happy story,though it doesn't sound like it at first.
 
The first time I saw him,I was sure he was on his way to the bridge.They
took him out of the cage,in which he lay listless,and put this skeleton
with fur in my hands.He looked at me,and I looked back,but didn't see much
of the spark of life in his eyes.'Oh great,I thought,my first foster and
I'm just going to love him until he dies.' His name is Steven,they tell me.
 
The little girl with him they called Smokey,and she was bald in spots with
not much fur anywhere,but she was full of spirit,a typical fert.I hoped she
wouldn't be grieving her friends departure soon.I gave him fluids every
hour for the first 48 hours.I almost didn't have to scruff him.I only
really did it to steady his head.He was what could kindly be called a fuzzy
slug.He just slept,went potty,at least he did that on his own,and swallowed
whatever duck soup and fluids I could get in him.All the while he was
grinding his teeth,and it was the hardest grinding I'd ever seen or heard.I
could hear him from across the room.
 
Three days later he was still grinding his teeth,so the vet put him on
helicobacter meds.This seemed to help,and I thought we're on the right
track.He had even gained some weight.The vet said this boy should be dead
from the way he looks.Personally,I thought so too,but if he didn't give
up,I wouldn't either.I really woke every morning surprised he was still
alive,and impressed at the loyalty shown by the little girl.She always
slept with him and never ate from his duck soup dish.
 
One morning,as I lay in bed,I heard crunching and thought,well,at least
she's eating.That's nice.I finally looked over and I couldn't believe my
eyes,it was the boy eating on his own.We passed a milestone that day,he
started wanting to live more and more,and I believed he just might.He had
the life spirit back in his eyes,and he would totter around the floor for a
few feet before flumping down.All the while,the little girl was bouncing
around him,encouraging him to activity.She'd make a great cheerleader.
 
After one week of two steps forward and one step back,he started to eat a
lot more on his own,putting on weight finally.I decided new life,new
name.After all,those that gave them their old names had starved them.I
didn't think they'd mind forgetting that past.I called her Tasha,short for
Natasha,and called him Boris,being a Rocky and Bullwinkle fan.When I told
him his new name,he looked up,considered and then looked like he approved.
 
After two weeks,he had doubled his weight,that was how close he had been to
the bridge.I took them out one night and sat on the floor to watch.Tasha
was froggy as usual,and bounced around him in circles.He looked at her as
she bounced behind the bed,and war danced about three bounces.That was a
beautiful sight,and I guess there was something in my eyes,because they got
blurry.Never had that bounce seemed so special.
 
Two days later,he started grinding his teeth more than he had been,and one
night I heard him throwing up.It was only once,but it was enough to give me
a sinking feeling in my stomach.Off to the vet to pick up more meds,and he
has a fungus on his back,so both get a medicated bath twice a week for a
month.
 
Now I'm wondering,what next.Never ask this question.The answer was more
grinding,more throwing up and a depressed ferret,not to mention the human
wondering was this the beginning of the end.Back to the vet again,and more
meds.If this didn't work it was x-ray time.Visions of losing him again,and
that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach.He can't leave now,not
after all the the effort and progress he'd made.There was twenty four hours
of worry,time spent snuggling him,just in case,so he'd know he was loved
before he crossed,and the struggling to get him to eat.
 
In the morning,he was up and looking for his duck soup.I guess we finally
found the right meds,not to mention the right stuff from him.Now they're
both eating and playing and enjoying life,for a change.Poor boy didn't know
how to play,but he's having fun learning.From almost starved to death and
everyone believing he was going to the bridge,to a normal,bouncing ball of
ferret fuzz.He is truly a Christmas gift,and that is one ferrets story.
 
Sandy and 4 + 2 Fuzzies
Now to find him a good home.
Dedicated to all the shelter operators that go through this way too often.
[Posted in FML issue 2897]