Quidni Dear, mischievous, affectionate, trouble-making, obstinate, strong-willed, loving, precious Woozle Child. First into mischief, last to tire out. Seeker of things to get into, that usually need help getting out of. Intense cuddler. Maker of "Gargoyle Faces." Fastest on the "roll over" and first to get the treat. Spastic dancer. Mama's girl. Little "Bratwurst." Stumpy legged, golden honey chocolate peanut butter colored little joy maker. Mishandled and neglected by a previous owner, once an insecure and neurotic biter, terrified by Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Major or by any sudden sound or movement, with an appetite like a pirahna and a two-second attention span. You chomped your way into my heart through sympathy, then cuddled in to stay, surprised by love. Within a few short months you transformed into an affectionate, curious, delightful companion. Sudden sounds which once would have sent you running away in panic, now only brought you in haste to investigate. Kissy, cuddly, intensely jealous of your lap time with me, following me around the room like a little stubby golden shadow, begging to be picked up. Once you had no social skills, no trust of others; but you fit in with this family and the other ferrets in a way no one thought possible. I promised to love you, protect you, provide for you and to always have time for you. No one would ever take you away from me, no one would ever again harm you or make you afraid. I never thought I would see a time when I would have to try to protect you from yourself. Tuesday morning you were fine, active and alert. Tuesday night you were crawling to the water bottle, to the litter pan, back to bed. Your own body's immune system is fighting you, destroying your red blood cells, marking your skin with bright red bruises. Your bone marrow couldn't keep up with the sudden demand. So fast, you slid so fast. Where once a trip to the vet would produce hissing and angry struggles at the indignity of shots and thermometers, now you have been poked and pricked, filled full of antibiotics, fluids and steroids, and you didn't even flinch. You are still, not through calm, but through exhaustion. Even so, it is not enough. Heroic measures are not enough. It struck too fast. This monster eating your red blood cells, swiftly stealing your strength and your life, has conquered the best that the doctor and love could do. At 1:00 pm, Wednesday March 27, you crossed over to wait at the Rainbow Bridge. Dear, sweet, mischievous, trouble-finding, strong-willed, loving Woozle Child. This trouble, I couldn't lift you out of. Quidni Born in the Fall 1994 Adopted October 23, 1995 Died March 27, 1996 [Posted in FML issue 1521]