It's late Saturday night, and I'm sitting at the computer shell-shocked
and empty of tears.  Taz had her second adrenal surgery on Thursday, and
everything was looking well enough for her to come home last night.
"Finally," I thought, "life can return to normal".  This morning I woke up
to see my brave little baby bright yellow from nose to tail- jaundice.  She
was tired and weak, but still had enough strength to crawl into my arms and
sink into my chest with a sigh.
 
My boyfriend and I rushed her to the 24 hour emergency clinic where they
took some blood for tests and put her on IV for fluids and antibiotics.
Tazzy didn't want to leave my arms; it was hard to let go.  They let us
hold her as much as possible- the usually hectic emergency clinic was
strangely quiet (I think God had a hand in that).  When they came by to
check on her fluids they unwrapped the towel to find her small intestine
coming out of the sutures from Thursday's surgery.  An added complication
that made our decisions that much harder.  The jaundice was either an
obstructed gall bladder or liver failure, neither giving good prognoses.
The intestine was a requirement for surgery.  The vet was gently realistic.
Given her recent surgery, ill health, etc, our choices were pretty limited.
 
At 5:00 PM, after a day of crying and cuddling, we made the decision to let
Taz go peacefully.  I cuddled her onto my chest and we both whispered words
of love into her ear.  The vet put the med into her IV- she was gone.
 
We are both extremely upset.  Our first ferret, Taz was very, very special
to us.  Only hours after surgery on Thursday, she was slipping out of the
vet's cage!  Even at the clinic this morning, she insisted on getting down
to wobbly explore the examination room before wanting back into my arms.
She was my only kisser, a cuddler, an entrancing combination of stubborn
rebellion and gentle vulnerability.  None can replace her, and my tears
are testament that she will be sorely missed.
 
We're taking her to my parent's cabin near the lake to bury her in a safe
place.  Jasper was her close companion, and he can't understand why he can
smell her on the blankets but can't seem to find her anywhere.  Craig and I
are both glad that we decided to get Baxter in March; he won't replace Taz,
but he is good company for Jasper and someone for him to sleep with in the
hammock.
 
Hug your fuzzies for me; let them know how very much you love them.  The
sound of digging at the carpet will be sweet for me, now.
 
Ariel and her fesnyng (weeping for Taz)
[Posted in FML issue 2402]