Yesterday about noon was the offical IV-pulling ceremony in which I was offically allowed to go HOME! The ceremony was a slow one, because I live for the chance to have all my little arm hairs slowly pulled out by the roots, one by one, by tape that could hold a charging rhino. Once home, I was greeted by five flying furballs who took turns tunneling behind my back, crawling up my pant leg, sniffing in my hair, licking my arms, ears, hand, and chin, rubbing up against me at every opportunity, and dooking all over the place. They were so excited that several (I won't tell on you Bear and Stella) poopied in the wrong place. Out came the peanut butter, raisins, tuna, ferret jerky, dried cranberries, and *gasp* smoked salmon....I had to pay them back for pretending to miss me, didn't I? When I hooked up to the 'net (the withdrawl pains were severe!) I discovered 157 messages; at least a third from you FMLers. Boy, do some of you need to get a life. No, really, I am very touched, and will send a response within a week (or so). Its amazing that so much good will can be spread by so many people known only electronically; but the bond shared through the love of these little fuzzy beasties overcomes such disadvantages. I hope that makes sense; I'm much better at argument and making a point than I am at saying "Thank you." Special Thanks to Troy Lynn Eckart who not only has sent mucho stuff via snail mail and e-mail, but also has agreed to place one of her little beasties in my care. Apollo will be the best get-well gift I have ever recieved; well, aside from watching the SO GET HERS BACK IN FULL!!! Several hours after coming home, I was snoozing on the sofa with five furballs keeping me company when the evil woman who tried to stop (Stomp?) my heart returned from having her hair go through some sort of strange ritual where the folicles are electroshocked or something. Mentioning something about my needing lunch, she started picking up fuzzies so I could (reasonably) set up. Stella had claimed her spot in my left armpit during my doze, and was completely limp when the SO picked her up. I mean COMPLETELY limp. SND time. So I said something like "OH MY GOD I MUST HAVE ROLLED OVER ON HER AND SUFFOCATED HER OH MY GOD WHAT WILL WE DO!!??" Ann (you know, the SO, the evil woman who tried to stop my heart earlier when I was sick and suffering and unable to defend myself...) just about died. SHe flopped Stella back and forth a few times, then looked at me for guidance. I said she should give her mouth to mouth. So Ann laid Stella belly-up on the arm of the sofa, and was leaning over to start when Stella blinked and licked Ann's upper lip. Ann cut loose with a sound that sounded somewhat like "Iii-eeee-aaaahhhhh", (but much faster), stepped back, and landed on her butt. I fell to a heap, clutching my stomach, trying desperately not to laugh. Stella just yawned, and looked at me as if to say, "Where's the peanut-butter?" It was worth every agonizing giggle! YES! THERE IS A GOD!! During my hospital stay, Stella lost more than 1/4 lb. Ann says she wouldn't eat, and took her to the vet who took blood and made X-rays, but couldn't find anything wrong. She would lay on the arm of the couch next to where I usually plop my butt, even to sleep (not me, the ferret!), although normally she sleeps in her bucket or under the hutch. Today, she dooked like a kit, ate like a horse, smelled like a pig, dug like a mole, jumped like a rabbit, and slept like the dead. Ann claims the weight difference could be from a lack of treats during my hospital stay, but I think she missed me; besides, I would never over-treat my fuzzies.... Thanks again for all the thoughts and prayers, and thanks BIG for the puns. They *cut* me up! I was in *stitches*! Drop the title moderator; you have the role of Joker *sewn up*! I don't want to *needle* you too much, because you always get in the last *shot*! Bobbed Moose, Stella, Daye, Tori, and Bear. The gang say, "Welcome home, and where's the goodies?" PS: So many asked....I was originally knocked down, kicked, and stepped on by a friend's cow who was having a breech calving (I was pushing while my buddy was elbow-deep in turning, if you get the meaning...). The birth was fine, but I started feeling poorly, and went to the doctor the next day when my temperature reached 104.2, and I turned full-moon white. A lower messenteric artery needed repair and the small bowel needed resectioning (1st cutting), and scar tissue caused a bowel-obstruction (2nd cutting). This 3rd trip was to remove a fibrous tumor that grew at the resection site. But not all is bad; the calf (Bobbie) was named after me (Bob). No bull. I wouldn't steer you wrong. And people think ferrets are dangerous.... (Oooo, a special pun; does he mean the cow or his bad jokes?...) [Posted in FML issue 1382]