Hi there.
 
This is just one last big THANK YOU to those who have written, some of you
just in the past day or so.  I'm down to about 50 messages to which to
reply, which has really kept my sad mind occupied.  As I slowly answer the
lovely messages my pain comes and goes like a balloon ruled by the wind of
Tarzan's memories..  The swath his incredible being bore through our hearts
and home is now vacant and ghostly, his loss like like a freeway in my heart
over which a random memory gallops to hijack my day.
 
I don't usually write about last rites for a fuzzy, especially at the length
I did for Tarzan's!  For one, it feels very personal, and two, I know I
sound like a lunatic.  But I was overwhelmed by grief, exhaustion, AND a
beautiful sunset, so... thanks for bearing with me.
 
It feels like we've gone from 20 to six ferrets... Tarzan, gave so much to
us all.  He was protector and hubby of Momma Claudette, a timid, sweet and
beautiful lady who, when feeling safe, proudly displays her very round, pink
tummy is a cherub for all to view.  He was dedicated stepdad of Squeek and
Minnie, though furtive lover of Min Min one brief evening ;).  He was
comforter of Wally, our adrenal/insulinoma boy who sometimes hurts.  He was
hero and coach to Petey, who cries like a baby - truly!-if you even look at
him askance.  He was boyfriend and kindred soul to crazy Lucy, who is
misnamed, but when I realized Tarzeen was an excellent epithet, Tarzan was
already sick, and I couldn't bear borrowing his name.  He was whimp to
Gadzook, cause Gadz' is our first and Tarzee would let him believe he put
the fear of FertGod into him, so that aging Gadzook feel like a king.
 
He was healer to all, lying atop any fur kid who felt bad, so big momma me
knew there was trouble.  And he was the only fert wrestling teacher I've
ever seen, diving headlong into a fuzzy, shoulder first, and rolling over
on him, then grabbing him in his arms and cuffing him gently with his
mouth, then backing off for another shoulder roll, until they learned and
joined in the fun, even trying it on others.  And, he regularly broke up
one-sided battles.
 
Our favorite game was giant.  I'd growl like a giant monster and chase him
around.  He loved to be chased.  Then I'd toss him on the couch and hold
him on his back, telling him to stay put until the giant returned with a
fork and plate for his dinner of Tarz.  Then I'd let go and he'd race of
the couch and run around the room, chuckling and chortling.  And I'd seize
him, growling, and place him in dining position again.
 
He so enlivened our home, always scurrying about while the rest were
sleeping, schlupping his nails on the floor so you'd know exactly where he
was.  Gazing up at me with intent five-sided eyes that bored right into
heart and soul, asking for a new game, beyond stocking socks, fetching
balls, and popping balloons.
 
Everything he did was brilliant and full of gusto.  His name Tarzan came
from his discovering nearly everything in two weeks it took the other
fuzzies, combined, two months to discover.
 
So, in his honor, I thank you all for sharing his memories, and now go about
learning deeper secrets of our more subtle fluffies, the six who seem to be
missing the loss of their great, big brother.  And, I've discovered that I
have Tarz, with Schroedee, Percy, Squeek and his siblings, curled and ever
ready to play, in the hammock of my heart.
 
Lynn
[Posted in FML issue 2414]