Had a scare last weekend:
Woke up Sunday morning and looked in on the fur ones.  Willie's in the
litterbox, presumably having his little morning poop.  Few minutes later,
hubby comes out and takes a look in the cage, and Willie's STILL in the
litterbox, STILL having 'assumed the position,' usual for pooing.... but
nothing seems to be happening!
 
We let him out of the cage, and he immediately begins dashing from litterbox
to litterbox (yup, you read right!  the little Wills is so good about the
litterbox that he's been known to go from one room to the another to use a
litterbox.  such a good boy.)  Well, now we *know* there's something wrong,
because the little guy seems frantic, still going from one litterbox to
another: hop in, assume the position, his little sides moving as he seems to
strain!  YIKES!  It's a Sunday (of course), and I call his usual vet and
he's out of town (of course)!  The decision is immediate and unanimous: into
a carrier he goes and it's off to Angell Memorial on an emergency (after
having called ahead to tell them we're on our way).
 
At the hospital, they check him quick, but then we wait for about 25 minutes
which seems like YEARS.  All the while, Willie trying to get comfortable.
Can't lie down, can't sit still, and with increasing frequency he's
'assuming the position' and still NOTHING's happening.  I'm pacing in the
hall, worried sick, and happen to overhear a vet giving an older couple the
'bad news' ... shaking their hands, telling them she's 'so sorry,' and
offering condolences... the couple wander out the door, stunned and clearly
fighting back tears.  I don't even know what sort of pet they had, but just
witnessing this I begin to cry.... Finally, we get in to see a vet.  They do
a quick X-ray.  I'm certain it must be a bowel obstruction.  Vet comes back
in with the X-ray in hand.  Surprise!  It's probably a urinary obstruction!!
 
Poor little Wills now standing in the cage, and I'm over close with him, at
eye level, looking straight into his clear little black eyes as he stares
steadily back into my eyes, and he's softly whining and I'm saying to him
over and over 'good boy, that's my little fur-boy, it'll be alright, we'll
make it better, just don't think about it.  look at mommy.  i promise it'll
be all better...' Vet comes back in and they're going to admit him for at
least the day and try to catheterize him to relieve the bladder, then run
blood and urine tests, etc., to try and determine the cause.  I make the Vet
promise three times over that she'll do something for Willie IMMEDIATELY
because he's in so much distress and pain.  We admit the little fuzz guy and
as we walk out with our empty carrier, all I can think of is the older
couple I'd seen just an hour before, and be grateful that at least our
little one is still alive and has a chance...
 
So: as they catheterized Wills, the blockage (which was very close to the
end of his penis, apparently) was cleared right away (*whew*).  Urine tests
came out indicating a bladder infection, which may or may not have been the
entire cause of the blockage, but he's on Amoxycillin and 'pee watch'....
Other contributing factors: Wills has been on the Prednisone for a couple
months now, so it may have suppressed his immune system just enough to allow
the infection to take hold... So if your ferret's on Prednisone, watch for
those symptoms of straining, since apparently this susceptibility to bladder
infection is a possible side effect of the medication.
 
Some good news from this though: They kept Willie a couple days and did some
blood work and some ultrasound, and evaluated him for surgery (he has both
insulinoma and adrenal tumor).  We had considered the surgery a while back
(I'd posted to the FML about this), but had come to the conclusion not to
put him through it (he'd already been through surgery before, and the
adrenal thing was now 'back'), also because of his age (7.5 yrs), his weight
was down, and he did not seem strong enough at the time... But now, after a
couple months on the Prednisone, plus twice-daily handfeedings of the
chicken baby food mixed with peanut oil, and vities, etc., etc., he is
actually stronger!  I've had all the findings (tests, X-ray, ultrasound
pictures) forwarded to his regular Vet, and we'll be deciding maybe now to
GO with the surgery, esp.  since the ultrasound shows primarily his left
adrenal (which apparently is the more 'operable' site because it's not so
close to the major vein (vena cava (sp?))) is involved.
 
Other odds & ends: found our computer with about 87 instances of the
'solitaire' game launched on the desktop... could only have been little
Winona mischief!  Same little Winona dashed out the front door (for the
first time ever!) behind my husband this morning, to his complete terror and
astonishment.  (My take: "I hate to say 'I told you so,' but...") Result:
hubby bruised and scratched up from literally DIVING into the bushes to
retrieve the fast little furbaby.  Winona perplexed at the fuss over her
very brief adventure...
 
And, an AMAZING COINCIDENCE! --
I'm sitting in the hall back at the hospital Tuesday night, waiting for them
to bring little Wills out to go home... and I overhear a very nice young man
checking in to pick up his ferret!  I, of course, strike up a conversation
with this newly-discovered fellow ferret-person, only to discover that he's
there to pick up his new adoptee who he'd brought in for some treatment, and
who turns out to be the very SAME little fertie sprite out of a fertie pair
who'd been surrendered into shelter care, and for whom I'd been the
volunteer who did the pickup and transport just a couple weeks before!  I
had noticed the sore on her neck when I picked them up (tough living
situation), and it was super gratifying to see that she'd been adopted by
someone who cared enough to have her seen and treated.
 
PLUS: a new fertie for us!
Long story short: hubby meets some people through a work-related gig down in
Connecticut. Turns out they've got a fertie who's been doing 'inconvenient'
things, consequently having been DECLAWED! (owie! nooo, mommy, dooooon't!!!)
 
Of course, first words out of my hubby's mouth on hearing this are: 'Oh!'
(pause...) 'Can I have your ferret?' (because it never hurts to ask!) They
told him they'd 'think about it'... Result: last night hubby arrives home
from Connecticut gig with one very lovely, slender, demure, dear little
silver sprite named Jessica, and each time I pick her up in my arms to
snuggle her, I kiss her poor little mutilated front feeties.  But she's
settling in nicely with her very own palatial cage, and (for now) limited
and controlled introductions to our other three (she's not had a lot of
contact with other ferties, so I'm concerned she not feel threatened or
overwhelmed by their attentions and rambunctiousness), and we're hoping
she'll fit right in.
 
-- The Happy, Hopeful Fuzzy Family of (now) FOUR Fleury Ferrets.
 
-- Here's Dookin' at You, Kit !!
(I LOVE that!!)
[Posted in FML issue 1699]