Hi.  I have received the most beautiful messages about my parting with
Tarzan, and they have moved me greatly and helped me grieve.
 
Today reminded me of child birth.  I've heard (no firsthand knowledge)
that women continue to have babies after their first, because they forget
about the pain.  It's been so long since I lost a sweet fuzzy, that I sort
of forgot how very much it hurts on many levels, on a minute by minute
basis.
 
We had such a beautiful little ceremony yesterday afternoon in the living
room, with the fuzzies scampering about and saying one last goodbye (Lucy
still didn't believe it last night and was running frantically from room to
room).  I read my windy poem (as usual), which my husband endures, as it
brings him to sobs every time.  Like Ariel, who just lost Taz, I bury my
fur kids with their special mementos, and Tarzee, if he ever remembers
where his old body lies, will know his mommy filled his last little spot
with his favorite things - pics of his mommy, daddy, wife, step kids, and
siblings; a whole balloon, and one he pooped, I mean popped, full of
Eukanuba, four raisins, and two lucky pennies; his squeeky soccer ball, the
one he would twirl till he could grab the little end - well, one of the half
dozen or so I got him when the pain from the cancer drove him to chew them
to smithareens :( ; a dirty sock each from mom and dad; and my windy poem (I
hand copied it for posterity).  I'm sure there was more, compulsive lunatic
I am.  He was buried in one of Carin Riley's fleece blankets (from the
Florida For Ferrets Only store and the FML Advertising list, they benefit
shelter fuzzies), a royal purple one, and wrapped in a quilted baby sleeper,
on which he found comfort in his last days.  The sun was just beginning to
slide over our rooftop as we covered him with dirt.  It was hard knowing
his remains were out in the cold last night, but my heart was warm with his
memories, and I hope his soul was warm, too.  I had a hard time letting go
of that day, which held my last moments with my Tarzan, but set the sun did.
 
And I still keep finding his hidden socks, which bring warm tears.  How
will I ever not feel sad over having socks to wear?  And how do six ferrets
seem so many ferrets less than seven?  And how could anyone cry because
they were cleaning up a beloved fuzzies last poops out of the litter box
(only you guys know the answer - easy!)?
 
We took the fuzzies out soon after the burial, and I remembered one last
balloon up on the roof of the shop.  I knew it was there 'cause I'd taken
Tarz outside before his chemo treatments and have him pop balloons and run
about so he wouldn't fuss during the treatment (right!).  I used to blow
them up and make great noises with them, then let them zoom at him, which
he loved (foreplay to the big pop!).  But this one had gone straight up and
landed on the roof of our shop!  It was on the sunny day before his third
chemo treatment, of four, the sunny day the Blue Angels flew over our car
on the way home.
 
Well, after ferreting this balloon from the roof, I discovered that the
other fuzzies like balloons after Tarzee's burial, so I was huffing and
puffing and blowing this last balloon up and zooming it at our first ferret
Gadzook, when KABLOMM!  it went off in my face!  Now, how often does that
happen?  I had a good laugh knowing that Tarzee was still at work with his
jokes (plus this didn't hurt nearly as much as when he popped one on my
foot!).
 
Ah, memories.
 
After we were finished with the ceremony, I continued to go every every
detail of my care for him while he was sick and having every second thought
and regret I could ferret out... then my first thought when I awakened this
morning was that I wished I'd taken his body for a necropsy, to try and see
what the chemo had done.  But I couldn't bring myself to cool him that
night, and his whole belly, from surgery was milk white and so smooth and
soft, where nary a hair had grown for six weeks, probably due to the daily
prednisone.  And I used to gaze at it and feel that mommy would probably
bury him all half shaved, even his two front paws.  And it used to break my
heart when he ran by the place I knew he'd be buried in the backyard...
plus I knew he died of lympho, or chemo, or both.  I was so overwraught
with grief and dealing with it, calling people and getting ready for his
ceremony, that I didn't think how I'd feel later with unanswered
questions...
 
Still, the second-guessing questions scream in my head, and I remind myself
over and over, that I can't have my Tarzee back, and if I call him to me I
apologize, saying it's okay to go, he must go, he has other paths in other
worlds.  The voices will quiet, if not die, on their own; but they are
there for now.  Between me and Tarzee and our Gods.
 
So many have told me that they've had many animals, but that ferrets squirm
into their hearts like no other.  It's almost embarrassing to think how
this would sound to someone not bitten by the ferret bug.  But I don't
care, cause I'm in love :)
 
Blessings for all us fuzzy people,
 
Lynn and the wonderous ferty spirits, some still in fur, and those in their
star-pushin' costumes
 
P.S.  It's nice to have local friends, too.  Todd Cromwell sent me the
biggest, most fragrant bouquet I've ever seen (I can smell the lillies
now), and Auntie Kate Pappas long ago gave me this wonderful eternal gift,
the beautiful story about how our spirit fuzzies go about their jobs
pushing the stars across the heavens (in Modern Ferret #17, Mustela, the
Weasel Goddess: A Ferret Myth).  And, slowly, through the FML, I'm meeting
other local fuzzy folk, neat people who have written, too.
 
Well, I gotta run.  The ferrets are showing up for their nightly outside
play, and I gotta teach them all about balloons!  More about the balloon
lesson when I come in!
 
(And, by the way; I never, ever leave a popped balloon anywhere a fuzzy can
get one!  I keep the unpoppeds in a left pocket, the poppeds in a right,
and I retrieve them immediately, ever last bit.)
 
Thank you, Thank you, and I will slowly but surely answer the lovely
messages honoring Tarz,
 
Lynn
 
P.P.S.  Some of the second thoughts and questions have been quieted by a
wonderful talk tonight with my vet friend Cathy Johnson-Delaney.  So maybe
I'll write a little about the medical issues another day.  :)
[Posted in FML issue 2407]