First of all, I would like to thank everyone who had emailed me about
Jenna with thoughts and prayers and well wishes and poems and hope.  I
have tried to write to you all personally, but if I missed someone, I
thank you and appreciate you taking the time to write to me.
 
Unfortunately, Jenna didn't make it.  She died in my arms on the way to
the vet about an hour ago.  I found her crashed at the bottom of her cage
this morning.  She was pale, her tail bottle-brushed, and she was limp.  I
tried rubbing honey on her gums and giving her a little water, but her jaw
was clenched shut.  I called the vet and my mom picked us up so I could
hold her (mom only lives a minute away) but she died half way to the vet.
She had such a good day yesterday.  I thought I would have more time with
her.  She was running around chasing Amber (other ferret) and she was
begging for raisins.  She even dooked a few times.  I really thought I was
going to at least have a couple weeks with her, but it just wasn't to be.
I am glad she isn't suffering, but this has to be the most unbearable,
heart-wrenching pain I have gone through in a very, very long time.
 
Jenna came from a pet store in December of 1997.  We thought she was so
beautiful (she was a dark-eyed white).  We (my husband Tim and I) went
back the day after we first saw her and bought her as a Christmas present
to each other.  They said she was 6 months old.  She appeared to be full
grown.  We took her home and realized she was either abused and returned,
or not handled at all at the store, because she was terrified.  She would
bite a lot.  She bit me so hard at one point her teeth touched each other
under the skin of my finger where she also hit a nerve.  We didn't yell
at her or anything, but we worked with her for months, rewarding her when
she didn't bite.  It paid off.  She turned into the most loving, trusting
ferret.  She decided that instead of biting you, she much preferred to
give you endless kisses.  She never had bitten anyone for anything again.
I was working at a school at one point, and even would bring her in to
visit with the children.  She was great with kids.  She would also come
running whenever you called her name, jump up on you, and cover you with
kisses, and then look at you with this look that said, "That deserves a
raisy, don't ya think, ma ma?"
 
I guess the bottom line is, I really thought she was a real special little
girl, and I will miss her terribly.  I just can't believe that it is over
and she is gone.
 
Kelly White
Southampton, Massachusetts
[Posted in FML issue 3807]