Yesterday about noon was the offical IV-pulling ceremony in which I was
offically allowed to go HOME! The ceremony was a slow one, because I live
for the chance to have all my little arm hairs slowly pulled out by the
roots, one by one, by tape that could hold a charging rhino.
 
Once home, I was greeted by five flying furballs who took turns tunneling
behind my back, crawling up my pant leg, sniffing in my hair, licking my
arms, ears, hand, and chin, rubbing up against me at every opportunity, and
dooking all over the place.  They were so excited that several (I won't tell
on you Bear and Stella) poopied in the wrong place.  Out came the peanut
butter, raisins, tuna, ferret jerky, dried cranberries, and *gasp* smoked
salmon....I had to pay them back for pretending to miss me, didn't I?
 
When I hooked up to the 'net (the withdrawl pains were severe!) I discovered
157 messages; at least a third from you FMLers.  Boy, do some of you need to
get a life.  No, really, I am very touched, and will send a response within
a week (or so).  Its amazing that so much good will can be spread by so many
people known only electronically; but the bond shared through the love of
these little fuzzy beasties overcomes such disadvantages.  I hope that makes
sense; I'm much better at argument and making a point than I am at saying
"Thank you."
 
Special Thanks to Troy Lynn Eckart who not only has sent mucho stuff via
snail mail and e-mail, but also has agreed to place one of her little
beasties in my care.  Apollo will be the best get-well gift I have ever
recieved; well, aside from watching the SO GET HERS BACK IN FULL!!!
 
Several hours after coming home, I was snoozing on the sofa with five
furballs keeping me company when the evil woman who tried to stop (Stomp?)
my heart returned from having her hair go through some sort of strange
ritual where the folicles are electroshocked or something.  Mentioning
something about my needing lunch, she started picking up fuzzies so I could
(reasonably) set up.  Stella had claimed her spot in my left armpit during
my doze, and was completely limp when the SO picked her up.  I mean
COMPLETELY limp.  SND time.  So I said something like "OH MY GOD I MUST HAVE
ROLLED OVER ON HER AND SUFFOCATED HER OH MY GOD WHAT WILL WE DO!!??"
 
Ann (you know, the SO, the evil woman who tried to stop my heart earlier
when I was sick and suffering and unable to defend myself...) just about
died.  SHe flopped Stella back and forth a few times, then looked at me for
guidance.  I said she should give her mouth to mouth.  So Ann laid Stella
belly-up on the arm of the sofa, and was leaning over to start when Stella
blinked and licked Ann's upper lip.  Ann cut loose with a sound that sounded
somewhat like "Iii-eeee-aaaahhhhh", (but much faster), stepped back, and
landed on her butt.  I fell to a heap, clutching my stomach, trying
desperately not to laugh.  Stella just yawned, and looked at me as if to
say, "Where's the peanut-butter?" It was worth every agonizing giggle!  YES!
THERE IS A GOD!!
 
During my hospital stay, Stella lost more than 1/4 lb.  Ann says she
wouldn't eat, and took her to the vet who took blood and made X-rays, but
couldn't find anything wrong.  She would lay on the arm of the couch next to
where I usually plop my butt, even to sleep (not me, the ferret!), although
normally she sleeps in her bucket or under the hutch.  Today, she dooked
like a kit, ate like a horse, smelled like a pig, dug like a mole, jumped
like a rabbit, and slept like the dead.  Ann claims the weight difference
could be from a lack of treats during my hospital stay, but I think she
missed me; besides, I would never over-treat my fuzzies....
 
Thanks again for all the thoughts and prayers, and thanks BIG for the puns.
They *cut* me up!  I was in *stitches*!  Drop the title moderator; you have
the role of Joker *sewn up*!  I don't want to *needle* you too much, because
you always get in the last *shot*!
 
Bobbed
Moose, Stella, Daye, Tori, and Bear.
The gang say, "Welcome home, and where's the goodies?"
 
PS: So many asked....I was originally knocked down, kicked, and stepped on
by a friend's cow who was having a breech calving (I was pushing while my
buddy was elbow-deep in turning, if you get the meaning...).  The birth was
fine, but I started feeling poorly, and went to the doctor the next day when
my temperature reached 104.2, and I turned full-moon white.  A lower
messenteric artery needed repair and the small bowel needed resectioning
(1st cutting), and scar tissue caused a bowel-obstruction (2nd cutting).
This 3rd trip was to remove a fibrous tumor that grew at the resection site.
But not all is bad; the calf (Bobbie) was named after me (Bob).  No bull.  I
wouldn't steer you wrong.  And people think ferrets are dangerous....
(Oooo, a special pun; does he mean the cow or his bad jokes?...)
[Posted in FML issue 1382]