In May of this year my husband and I went into the pet store in Lafayette, guided by God, I truly believe. While in the store we found Gandalf, who was almost dead with the flu, and we brought him and Hagrid home. Within a week his weight was up, the light was in his eyes, he was a typical 5 1/2 week old baby ferret. He also was deaf, classic Waardenburg syndrome. Gandalf grew to a big boy, a whopping 4 1/2 pounds. He was so big my niece called him the walking pelt, and although she's not a ferret lover, she fell in love with the gentle giant. He was the first ferret my 9 year old great-nephew looked for when coming through the door. They'd play together, along with Gandalf's group. Gandalf and the rest of the Crew made the move from Lafayette to Fort Wayne back in June with flying colors. But we noticed that as he'd play, he'd pause and pant. We contributed it to his size-he was the biggest ferret we'd ever seen. We got our house and he adapted well, would come bounding up and down the stairs, and he had his own spot under a cabinet. I'd find Gandalf on his big green teddy bear, laying on his back, sound asleep. Two weeks ago he and the great-nephew had played, and he suddenly wasn't himself. I found him all by himself, laying asleep. When I picked him up he whimpered, which wasn't Gandalf at all. I called the vet the next day, got him in, just in case they'd played too hard. The vet thought he had the flu, as Gandalf had the runs. We medicated him and he came out of it, was doing fine. Sunday the great-nephew was here, they played, again Gandalf went down. He kept seeming depressed, but was eating and drinking. When he got into these depressions he couldn't walk, would sort of drag himself. I carried him downstairs last night, Tuesday, and he just didn't act good. I held him on my lap, laid him on my chest, and he put his big, beautiful head on my shoulder and rested. He wanted down and I let him. We keep a sheet for them in the living room, he crawled into it and went to sleep. We could hear Gandalf breathing clear across the room, extremely labored. I had cleaned his group's cage, carried him upstairs and listened to his lungs and heart, no fluid in the lungs but extremely rapid heart beat, and his gums were pale. Even though he couldn't hear me I asked him to hang in there, to get to the vet today. I went to bed about 10:30pm to the sound of him breathing, and off and on all night I'd listen, couldn't hear him, figured he'd gotten relaxed. I got up this morning at 4:45 am to find that he'd left me. All I could do was hold him, rock him, cry my heart out. My husband and daughter were right there for me. I called the vet when they opened, and Larry got him there for a necropsy. The vet was more than stunned, as he'd seen him not long before. He performed the necropsy and now I know why there was no lung sound. Gandalf's left lung was literally non-existent. His lung was a massive tumor that literally filled his chest cavity, taken over the lung tissue, pushing his heart over, and it had stunted his right lung. The vet thinks the heart was pushed over so far, and the tumor was so hard, full of blood, that it threw a clot and caused him to have a heart attack. The vet has sent the tissue out to find what type of tumor this was. My husband saw the tumor, told me how hard it was, and said it was half the size of his fist. And now my Gandalf, who made it through a near death at an early age, like a candle in the wind, is gone from us. He was so gentle, so big. Our little Galadriel is marked like him, and I have a picture of them looking at each other, touching noses. His cards were never stacked in his favor, and I couldn't help him this time, I couldn't save him again, keep him healthy so he'd reach an older age. His bonded buddy, Hagrid, looked at me this morning after I had Gandalf in my arms as though to say it's all right mom, we were all with him, he wasn't alone. I wish I could describe him to you all, how soft he was, how gentle, how when he'd play he'd do a death roll across the floor, hee heeing all the way. When he was well he had the most beautiful smell, like a field of flowers. I knew when he didn't feel good, because this wonderful odor went away. And now I'll never smell that from him again, my little flower garden is gone. We'll get his ashes back, and I'm getting a very special pouch for him. They're all special, the little ones who are with us, but somehow Gandalf was a touch more special, because he'd had such a hard time. Sandee, please make sure he's there, and has met Socks, Suzy, Jill, Nelly, Bailey, Nibbles, and Chili, the other members of my Crew who are there. Please tell him I miss him so very much, as does the rest of my family. My great nephew was so sad and shocked, and followed me tonight while we both took care of the fuzzies and allowed them to help us through this ordeal. My dear friend, Wolfy, sent me something that another dear friend, Kat, sent her. A saying that for the losses we have at Christmas is because maybe God wants special people and babies with Him for His Christmas. I know he got a very special baby when Gandalf went home to him. Folks, hold your babies tight, play with them. It doesn't matter what age it is when they leave us, the hurt and the hole is so huge. I've not lost a little one this young, and it is such a shock. Take care my Gandalf, my Gandy-Alf, my Gandy man. You were truly my Candle in the Wind-a truly bright light extinguished far too soon. I didn't even get to tell you of the Bridge all the way, I mentioned it to you because I didn't think you'd leave me so soon, too soon. Rebecca and the sad Crew of Merry Mayhem "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for thou art crunchy, and taste good with ketchup" "Support bacteria, it's the only culture some people have" [Posted in FML issue 4001]