Bizzy crossed the Rainbow Bridge this morning -- held in my arms, released by her kind vet -- after two weeks of flagyl, pepto, duck soup and sub-q fluids to treat debilitating diarrhea. She was still able to toddle around for maybe 5 minutes once or twice a day, but most of the time she preferred to sleep or rest in my arms or with her girlfriends. She hated being fed the past few days, and who could blame her when her system would pass the food almost violently? Bizzy is one of the first two ferrets I adopted after joining the FML around the beginning of last February. When I learned about all the unwanted ferrets in the world, I downloaded Pam Grant's list to find my local shelters. Within a month or so after calling the nearest shelter to ask to be put on a list to adopt older/less easily placed rescues, I was called about Bizzy (6yo DEW) and Baby (4yo sable) whose parents were moving to Italy. When Sandee arrived at my house to check me out and see how I treated my store-bought girls, Eloise and Sabine, we discussed the previous owner's having neglected to mention that Bizzy (an MF ferret) was half naked and very skinny. Thanks to the FML, I already knew what this meant, and Eric and I were happy to make an appointment for surgery for Bizzy. (I don't doubt that the owner loved both his girls and spent a lot of time with them; it was obvious from many things that became evident about their personalities and habits. But for some reason he hadn't taken her to a vet.) Bizzy lost all her fur after the surgery (last April), but only grew back most of what she had come with. Her muscle tone improved wonderfully, however, and she delighted in chasing my feet endlessly, giving them a gentle nibble so they'd know she had caught them. This summer we began treating her for a chronic vaginal infection, and the vet predicted that she had an impaired immune system which would continue to evidence itself. Sure enough, the infection could only be controlled but not cured. She also began to lose hair again, but both this vet and the one who had done her surgery felt that at age 7 it was better to let her enjoy the life she had without further surgery. When she got the runs, I thought she'd caught a tummy bug from the others (now 10 others) who'd caught it from me. By this week, I was sure that there was something wrong with her system. In spite of all our efforts, Bizzy looked literally like an inmate of Auschwitz, and she was growing weaker. Her spirit never flagged and her sweetness never failed, but the quality of her life was reduced to very few marginally normal minutes a day. I do not believe in waiting until a dying animal begins to suffer miserably, so Eric, Rebecca and I have been discussing letting her go for two days. I prayed for clear guidance from the vet when Bizzy went back for her appointment today, and the vet said every single thing I had been thinking about Bizzy's condition and her prospects for the future. He is sure that if he had done an autopsy (which there is no good reason to perform ... therefore, I will not disturb her body further) he would find "a lot of pathology." Bizzy will be buried today between two of my yellow rose bushes (yellow for joy) and near my statue of St. Francis. Her sweet face won the heart of everyone who met her, even those indifferent to ferrets, in spite of the pink nakedness of the back 2/3 of her body. She was loved for at least 6 years by her first owner and for 1 year by our family. She was a character, she was a lady, and she is already deeply missed. A cheerful note: Esme', the little girl I was so fearful of losing during insulinoma surgery, has had a personality transformation. She is *chasing and attacking the boys* and never walks anywhere if she can trot or run instead. The minxish spirit that sometimes danced for joy and teased me until I would chase her is strong now that she has a stronger body to display her feelings. I can hardly feel her ribs anymore, and I have told her I want her to get fat like Sabine next winter. [Posted in FML issue 1883]