Due to the fact that Vikki's computer is out of commission for the time
being she asked if I could let Sandee know that her beloved Marky has
left for the Bridge to join the Walsh Weasels.
 
 
Dear Sandee,
 
The Walsh Weasels ask that you look for Marky who crossed to the Bridge
on March 22.  This is his story:
 
Diddy answered the call that came into the MaFF hotline from a man with
an odd English name who stated that he had a ferret he needed to dump.
He freely admitted that he had forced his family to leave their home, and
in doing so the family pets were left behind-- cats dogs and the ferret.
The man didn't want any of them, and threatened to shoot the ferret if
MaFF didn't take him; BUT he'd be happy to provide a new cage if we did.
 
Alarming as the ultimatum was, it wasn't nearly so alarming as what was
delivered to us.  The surrender occurred last September during a terrible
hurricane that lasted 3 days.  While filling out the necessary surrender
forms, the man spoke openly about "Rocky" - what a nice ferret he was, so
very friendly.... AND how GLAD he was to be "rid of him."  As the man was
describing 6" of poop in the cage and no one going OUTSIDE to clean it,
I wondered briefly how this person could possibly know what this ferret
was like when no one had been near him in as long a time as it took 6"
of poop to accumulate.  When the man finally opened the tailgate of the
truck there was Rocky curled up in a ball in his brand new cage... a
perfectly wonderful cage fit for a hamster.
 
He was clearly starved, soaking wet and shivering from the cold with
fur matted with so much filth that his skin was black, and there was an
ominous lump in his side.  But the hardest thing to see was the misery
and desolation in his eyes.  He looked as if he wanted to be done with
life.
 
Diddy and I bundled this poor sick ferret up in a clean bed where he
promptly fell asleep and did not stir the entire drive home.  He was to
be kept in my charge, so when we arrived home while I readied his cage,
Diddy gave him a warm bath.  He was so filthy that the bath water and
the tub were black, and he didn't flinch during the entire process, The
warmth and drying off" time seemed to bring him out of his stupor and he
was transformed into something that actually might be alive!
 
Recovery was slow for Rocky... a week after his rescue he suffered
insulinomic seizures resulting in a minor setback, but he was soon
doddling about with a new found will: there were suddenly new sounds,
new smells, new things, new ferrets, food in the dish all the time,
fresh water in the bowl, fresh litter in the pan, soft beds and hammies,
and most of all new people and a new experience for him.....love.  His
strength started to return, and it was a joy to watch his crooked gait,
twisted toes and bottle-brush tail as he dooked and chirped when he
played with the tube.
 
As it became clear that this little Man was a fighter, Diddy suggested
we change his name to reflect his growing strength and to honor another
great fighter Rocky Marciano whose family she knew in her childhood... So
he became known as Rocky Markyano ( or Marky for short).  He became a
very tactile ferret.  His favorite pastime was to lie on his back on his
favorite sleepsack or on the big body pillow and hold my thumbs with his
hands while I rubbed his ears, face and shoulders.  More often than not
he would drift off into a blissful deep sleep not even stirring when I
covered him with a Blankie to keep him warm, or picked him up to hold
in my arms.  I think this was all he ever wanted.. and there was no
resisting that sunny little face begging to be held so close.  He was
intensely happy and lavished kisses on hands and face, and when Diddy
would stop over to visit him, the bottle brush tail told how happy he was
to see her too.
 
Sadly the lump in his side was growing larger by the day, and his entire
abdomen became involved.  His weight was nearly 4 lbs- most of it tumor.
After 7 months of happy life he finally succumbed to his cancer.  He
fought the fight like the little champ he was for as long as he could
until that last morning when he let me know he was too tired to go on.
He spent that morning in the hospital where the nurses and doctors kept
him comfortable until he was ready to go.  He saved his last kisses for
Auntie Diddy and Auntie Rose, and as I held him in my arms, with the
sounds of my heart beat and grief in his ears he left me and crossed to
the Bridge.
 
Diddy was right-- Just like his namesake, he was a fighter and a
champion, but to me he'll always be my Marky-Man.
 
Warmly,
Vikki & The Walsh Weasels
 
Greetings to those who are with us now, and Respects to those who have
crossed who you look after so well.
[Posted in FML issue 4830]