My beloved Tyson passed on to the bridge on Monday, the 24th of this
month.  It happened so suddenly and I am still in shock over it all.  He
was not doing too good the morning of the 17th and I took him to the vet
when I saw him looking so pitiful.  He was fine the night before.  Eating
and drinking and then going to sleep in his favorite hidey place in my
foyer.  How could he get sick so darn fast?  The vet said he had a bad
case of gingivitis and prescribed Clavamox.  So I took him home and mushed
his food up for him and gave him his meds which he absolutely hated.  He
was doing better on the 3rd day but he was loosing weight fast so I tried
the gravy recipes which he liked fine and ate.  He was drinking and
urinating just fine so I was not worried about dehydration.  Well Monday
the 24th rolls around and he was going through what seemed a seizure and
he was so weak he couldn't even hold his head up.  I gathered him in my
arms and off to the vet we went.  By all appearances Tyson was too weak
and too old to make it through the rest of the day so I said my goodbyes
and stood with him while the vet gave him the shot to end all pain on this
earthly realm.  No matter how many times I have had to send a ferret of
mine off to the bridge it still gets to me.  My Tyson was gone.  My little
grey haired cuddle bunny.
 
Tyson was a throw away.  The woman who gave him up no longer wanted him
for various reasons.  One of which was the fact that he bit off her guinea
pigs ear some time back and hence the name Tyson stuck with him.  He did
not like other ferrets at all and let them know real fast when I brought
him home that he would not engage in their silly war dancing antics.  He
claimed a big forest green sleep type sack for his personal domain and
the other ferrets soon learned to steer clear of him.  Even my black eyed
white Ranger, the feistiest and nuttiest fert I own respected Tyson's need
for aloneness.  With me, Tyson was the most loving of ferrets I have ever
owned.  He would take naps with me and crawl into bed with me at night and
sleep through to the morning nestled in a ball next to the small of my
back.  He would shower me with kisses and loved sharing broiled chicken
with me when I made it.  He was amazing in so many ways.  I estimated him
at about 6 or 7 years of age.  I really do not know for sure.  He was
very picky with his choice of raisins and preferred only the plumpest and
most juicy ones in the can and they HAD to be California raisins in the
red canister.  My Tyson was the absolute best.
 
So now I have my 13 other little devils to love on and help me make it
through all this.  They still go near his giant green sleep sack and
look.  I think they know he is gone.  God how it hurts to loose these
guys.
 
Diane
[Posted in FML issue 3827]