I must admit that I haven't read the list in awhile. I tend to talk to myself when I read it, and usually it is of the negative variety. So I thought I would spare myself and skip it for awhile. So then I skim through it today, reading bits and pieces. And then Bob C had to go and ruin it for me. I usually skip posts about ferrets passing away. I have been *incredibly* blessed to not have had to deal with this yet. But I have 8 of them, and 2 of them are Insulinomic, and 1 of those has already had Adrenal Cancer. And as much as I wish to deny fate, I see her getting older. My Bailey. I managed to get all the way through the post about Apollo, and didn't blink a tear away until I got to that damned "you rotten munchkin." And then just burst into tears. I do that all the time. "Oh, you little shit!" is mainly my phrase of choice when they knock the Coke cans over, or shred the grocery bags, or thoughtfully redistribute the potty pan pellets or just decide to poop in the middle of the floor on a shoe. I can not count the T-shirts, bedsheets and towels ruined by Ferretone. I can not count the inconceivable rolls of paper towels and cans of Spot Shot we go through. I can not imagine what I could have done with all the money I have given my vet in the past year. I can remember scores of days walking into the apartment and going, "Oh yeah, 8 ferrets live here." I can remember the absolute lunacy of moving out of our one apartment into another in a 3 day span because they changed the rules on us about our ferrets. I can not count the number of times I have had to come home early from visits to my family because I can not leave them alone over night. The Christmas I missed because 3 of our new ones needed hand feeding. I can not count the bite marks, scratch marks I have received by rescuing someone during a fight. I can not count the times I have thundered up the stairs after hearing a baby's frightened or indignant screaming. I can not describe the fear, the sickness I felt when Boo was lost for 6 weeks or when we came downstairs on Mother's Day to find they had knocked over the plywood and escaped out the back door... I can not ever remember feeling as helpless, as scared and as willing to bargain with my life as I did when my Sturmie, my beautiful, big boy was deathly ill in January. But... I can not imagine my life without their faces. Boo's impossibly tiny ears. Her little, tiny tongue. I can not imagine my life without Sturmie's kisses, his need to try and lick the eyebrows off your face. I can not see a day when I could come home and not see my Deedle Bug's gorgeous white and silver face, and her curious black eyes. I can not envision a laundry day without a rousing game of Damn It, I Am Trying To Sort That!! I can not see stain free furniture because that would mean my Tassy wasn't around. I could not function without Howie helping me get ready in the morning. I can not get through a single day now without looking at Otto and being flat out astounded at how gorgeous he is, how beautiful his face is. I can not imagine how I am ever going to have the strength to heal my heart when I have to let Bailey go. I can not ever imagine finding anything that calms me when I come home from work so stressed out that I'm sick as they do when they all clamber up me to fight to give me kisses. Rotten little munchkins. Julie [Posted in FML issue 2691]