We bought Bailey from a pet store fully grown.  She was our second ferret,
purchased to give Boo some company.  We were so excited about another
ferret that we didn't realize she was sick when we bought her.
 
Her fur was dry and brittle, she couldn't walk well, she had worms, and she
had nightmares.  She slept a lot, played with Boo some, and began to sleep
through the night.  Almost a year after we bought her, I woke to get ready
for work.  As I was drying my hair, I felt something rather rudely biting
my toe, and digging furiously at my socks.  I looked down to scold Boo,
and to my utter delight, there was Bailey.
 
About six months later, Bailey began losing fur.  She was diagnosed with
Adrenal Cancer and Insulinoma.  She had one surgery for both that left her
cut open like a turkey.  I was terrified to touch her after it, and didn't
sleep a wink the night she came home.  Before going to work that morning,
I peaked in to see how miserable she was.  To my complete shock, she was
sprawled out upside down, all four paws in the air, asleep in her favorite
position.  Bailey recovered within days, and was great for almost a year.
 
Two months ago, her health began to decline.  Her Insulinoma was getting so
bad that we were forced to put her on Prednisone.  When that didn't help,
Proglycem was added.  She recovered for a week, and then was diagnosed
three weeks ago with Helicobacter, Inflammatory Bowel disease and ulcers.
We did everything possible.  We drove an hour to get compound medicines.
We tried every food suggestion emailed our way.  We switched medicines on
advice of others.  Nothing took, and nothing worked.
 
Three days ago, Bailey lost the ability to walk on her hind legs.  Her
blood glucose that day was 34.  She lost the ability to get into the potty
pan, and had to be cleaned daily, sheets changed.  Last night, my heart
broke when I heard her begin to wheeze.
 
I stayed up with her until 2:30 in the morning, and then had to leave at
4:30 for work.  I left work at 9:00 am, feeling ill myself, and wanting to
get home to her.  I checked on her, and when I touched her head lightly,
she squeaked.  She was so weak she could not hold her head up.  She was
breathing hard, wheezing with every breath.  When I picked her up to run
for the phone, she squeaked again.
 
Phil and I made the 15 minute journey to Dr. Putkonen in 5.  He took one
look at her and looked at us.  I started to cry, knowing what he was going
to say.  He listened to her lungs and said they sounded horrible, her
pneumonia had come back with a vengeance.  Anything we did at this point
was going to be heroics.  And for the first time, Bailey was in pain.
 
Bailey didn't struggle when he shaved her neck to find her vein.  We began
to pet her as the medicine was injected, and within a few seconds, she
was gone.  Phil picked her up and held her for a few minutes until I could
get a hold of myself.  I held her to me, trying hard to stop the
semi-hysterical thought of, "Oh no, I don't want this after all, bring
her back!"  I held her until I could no longer keep her warm.  I kissed her
head, gently stroked her black feet and then we wrapped her in her favorite
fluffy cow patterned blanket.
 
To say this has been the absolute most horrible day of my life comes not
even close.  I know we did everything we could, I know it was the right
time, but I would do anything to have her back.  I bargained my life away
for nights on end this past week to make her better, but it wasn't to be,
and I hate it.  I hate it.
 
I never ever thought I could love something like I love her, and her 7
brothers and sisters.  She gave me the realization that I would gladly
throw myself under a train to rescue her, that I would sell my car to pay
for treatment to make her better, that I would make myself sick staying up
for her, worrying about her, trying to make her comfortable.  She was the
most gentle creature I have ever seen.  She was the bravest, more brave
than I could ever be.  And as I fall apart now, I am only glad that she is
not in pain any longer.  I never expected to wake up and lose her.
 
She is our first loss, and so the first time my heart is utterly broken.  I
have no build up to make it hurt less, and I can not believe I walked in
the door without her.
 
Thank you to everyone who emailed us with ideas, prayers and wishes for
her.  And, please, while I appreciate what Skeeter does for people, I have
no wish for him to greet Bailey.  Maybe some day when I am able to let go
of her, but that won't be any time soon.
 
 "He was my North, my South, my East and West,
  My working week and my Sunday rest,
  My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
  I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong."
[Posted in FML issue 2874]