Scott's Case Files

I Lost Another Little Sweetheart Yesterday

I was up by The Bratmeisters' place over the weekend and both The Bratmeister and Mrs. The Bratmeister were horribly sick.  Sunday morning I woke up and my cell phone rang.  I answered it and my Mom (who was watching my ferrets for me) told me that my ferret Katrina was dying.  I was feeling destroyed inside.  I took a bus up there and the one back home wouldn't leave for another six hours.  Six precious hours.

Though deathly ill, The Bratmeister Clan volunteered to drive me down and I accepted only because I didn't want my Katrina to die without feeling me stroke her fur one last time and hear me tell her that I loved her.

It's because of the self-sacrifice on the part of my friends and family from afar - The Bratmeisters - that I was able to hold my sweet Katrina in my arms and let her know that I had not forgotten about her in her last hours.

I miss her so much.  She was my fanatical ferret-kisser, my little acrobat, and my angel.

Myrtle Not Doing Well

Myrtle, along with her cage-mate Simon, was my first ferret.  She's a beautiful chocolate girl with a mind for exploration.  As of late, she's been showing her age - a grand 6+ years - and hasn't been playing or exploring much.

A few months ago, she was diagnosed with insulinomas on her pancreas, which basically put out a huge amount of insulin - far more than her body could handle.  The vet put her on pediapred to control it, but even the higher dose that we moved up to wasn't doing the trick and any more over any period of time would be dangerous.  So surgery to remove the insulinomas was necessary to give her a good quality of life in the long run.

The surgery was two days ago and it turns out that they not only removed two large insulinomas on her pancreas, but there were also large tumors on her liver which forced them to remove two of its lobes.  Since then, the vet has been taking her home to give her care and to be near in case anything went wrong, as she is still "wiped out" and is only eating when they force-feed her.

My own goal is to give her the best quality of life for as long as I can give it to her, but I know that one of the responsibilities that I took on when I adopted her was knowing when to let go for her sake.  I don't want her to suffer just so that I can put off my grieving for her.  If it comes to it, I will have her put to sleep so that she doesn't have to suffer any longer.  As it is, the vet said that she probably has six months left before her quality of life drops or she dies.  I just hope that she recovers and has some spring in her stride for a while longer to enjoy her explorations and mischief.

Myrtle's Insulin Issues

Myrtle isn't too happy with me lately because I now give her medicine twice a day - once in the morning and once at night.  It's a blend of several things at the moment, but will soon just be a drug that will regulate her insulin.  The mean look that she is giving me in the picture, by the way, isn't because of the medicine - it's because I had to prod her for 10 minutes to get a good picture of her...in the big shoe.

Last week I woke up to find my sweet baby in her cage with poop everywhere.  In fact, she was pressing herself into a nearly vertical ball in order to try to push it out.  She was also shivering.  I thought that she had a blockage and was either going to die right there in front of me or have to be operated on, which is a dangerous proposition at her near seven years of age.

I got her straight to the vet that morning and to make a long story mercifully shorter, it turns out that my Myrtle has insulinoma.  A tumor has formed on her pancreas that is forcing it to turn out more insulin than she needs so she's the opposite of a diabetic.  This isn't uncommon in older ferrets so it doesn't worry me too much.  It just means that she needs a little extra care, which is fine by me.  She does hate to get her medicine, though, which I give her orally with the help of a small syringe (no needle).  Just like a kid, she tries to keep her mouth closed, but eventually opens it and that's when you get the syringe in there and squirt the medicine in.  Hopefully she'll get used to it.  Right now, I'm on a no ferret kiss streak from her.

I suppose prodding her when she's enjoying the solitude of her big shoe isn't helping matters either...

UPDATE: Myrtle now opens her mouth for me as soon as the syringe gets close to it and allows me to quickly squirt in her medicine.  And the no ferret kiss streak has been broken!  (Some ferretone after the medicine helps on both counts)

My Babies Sleepin'

My Myrtle looking like she just got done running the tubes and decided that it was a good time for a nap.

Katrina lounging in the dig-box.

If it's one thing that ferrets have mastered, it's relaxation!  We could all take a lesson.

My Damien Has Died

I came home from work Friday and went through my getting home routine, then went into the ferrets' room to say hi.  The girls, Myrtle and Katrina, were in their hammock on their cage's second level and Damien was lying on some bedding on the first level.  He was lying on his tummy, his head flat on the floor looking forward.  I rousted the girls and immediately noticed that Damien wasn't moving.  If nothing, he will poke his head up and see what's going on, but he did nothing.

I was terrified as I opened the cage's first level and grabbed at him, but he didn't move.  He was limp and it took a moment to be sure that he had indeed died.  I cried my eyes out.  I don't know what did it.  It could have been the heat.  It could have been the fact that he never fully recovered from his surgery - he just never had any energy anymore, even though he gained back his weight and most of his muscle mass.  I layed on the floor and cried, stroking his fur.

The night before I was so tired.  My nephews visited and after they left I fell asleep early and didn't do any playtime with the fuzzies.  That's the thing about death - there is no second chance to do the things that you should have done.  It eats me up inside that I didn't have the opportunity to say good-bye or be there with him as he faded away and let him know that I loved him in those last moments.

He was a good little boy and I miss him.

Damien Better!

Just as an update, Damien is doing FANTASTIC these days!  The antibiotic and the fact that he's eating of his own volition again have turned him around.  He still doesn't seem 100 percent, but he's definitely not doing badly.  Once again, he's playing with his fellow fuzz-butts, running around, exploring, and giving ferret kisses.

Expect a new round of ferret picks to come soon!

Liver Problems For Damien

My ferret Damien is my youngest (about 2 years old) and probably the most sociable of my three fuzzies.  He just hasn't been acting himself lately.  He's been tired - looking for a place to rest when the others are playing - which isn't normal for him.  He hasn't been eating and has lost some weight.  And his poops (very standard thing for ferret owners to observe) are runny.  None of those are good.  The way he was acting I was afraid that he had a hairball so after trying the normal remedies for the hairballs and finding no improvement I took him to the vet.

Welcome, Katrina

The loss of my ferret Simon was painful and rereading my own post about the experience brings tears to my eyes even now.  I miss his mischievousness and his little ferret kisses...and I always will.  Thinking of both myself and my ferrets, I went today and adopted another from The Ferret Den, my local shelter.

My new baby is not a replacement for Simon - he is irreplaceable.  There has been no ferret like him since, nor will there be again.  He had his own personality just as every other baby everything else in the world, after all. What my new adoptee is, is simply bringing a new family member into the fold.  Three is the perfect number of ferrets - when such a thing as a loss happens, no ferret is left alone in lament and has another to lean on.  Believe it or not, ferrets can die of depression resulting in the loss of a cage-mate.  Three ferrets means that none of my babies will ever be alone and that the family that I have, such as it is, goes onward.

Memories of Simon

I personally believe that the only immortality that we have is through the memories of others.  When the day comes that I die, I don't want any kind of a sermon.  I don't even want anyone who never knew me to speak.  I just want my friends and family to take a moment to talk about me and the times good and bad that we shared.  That way, I'll always be around.  The same goes for animals like Simon, so I will pay him the same respect.

A member of a ferret group to which I belong sent me this poem when I announced Simon's death, which I think sums that feeling up perfectly:

Weep not for me though I am gone
Into that gentle night
Grieve if you will, but not for long
Upon my soul's sweet flight.
I am at peace, my soul's at rest
There is no need for tears.
For with your love I was so blessed
For all those many years.
There is no pain, I suffer not,
The fear now all is gone.
Put now these things out of your thoughts,
In your memory I live on.
Remember not my fight for breath
Remember not the strife
Please do not dwell upon my death,
But celebrate my life.

- Constance Jenkins

So, with that, go ahead to the continuation to see my memories of Simon and in you he will live on...

Simon Died This Morning...

  I was going to sleep late last night at about 2am - later than I wanted to in preparation for my Monday.  I figured I'd do one last check on my fuzz-butts and went in there to take a look at them sleeping in the cage.  I heard a strange noise so I actually sat there for a few minutes turning my head side to side before I figured out that the one ferret that I couldn't see clearly (sleeping tucked underneath Myrtle in their second-floor sleeping cube) - Simon - was breathing hard.

I took him out and carried him out in the front room while I lie him down gently on my chest while I watched some television in the background, all the while watching over my little baby.  I know my ferrets are sick when they are lap-animals - otherwise even at their most affectionate they're looking to get away from you to explore somewhere or see something.  Simon laid there and kept breathing arduously.  I decided that I'd nurse him through the night and take him to the vet in the morning.

He was weak and would occasionally poop a little but I got some paper towel and let him lie there on my chest just the same.  I never understood until then how a mother could be thrown up on by a sick child and not even notice it, but I do now.  No matter what poop or vomit may get on you, you just want to hold the baby close and let them feel your warmth and know that you're there next to them and the poop is just a trivial and passing matter.

Eventually, I was too tired to stay up and laid him next to me on the couch, encircling him with my body and arms as I lay on my side, feeling his still arduous breathing against my skin.

And I fell asleep.

When I awoke, Simon's breathing was beyond arduous - he was gasping for it.  He was also making soft whimpering sounds and I knew that it was too late to help him and that the end was near.

The tears came as I asked him softly to let go, "Let go, baby...it's alright...don't suffer anymore...let go, baby..."  In the back of my mind I thought of gently and fully submerging him in water to take away his suffering, but I couldn't.  I held him up and looked him in the eyes, stroking his fur softly, saying, "Please let go, my little boy."

His breathing became more labored and less frequent until finally he stopped altogether.  With my hand holding him around his torso I could still feel his fast, ferret heartbeat.  I put his body to my ear and listened as it slowed down, beat by beat, until finally a minute or two after he stopped breathing it beat one last time.

My baby Simon died at about 5:30 this morning.  I buried him behind the house just outside the window into the ferret room.

I miss my poor baby Simon.  I can't stop the tears.