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Walking through the aisles in the garage at the river house in Ohio, I
was cleaning up newspapers and waste that had fallen from the cages.
With the numbers down there was more time for individual ferrets. One
hob always had a ton of food under his cage and I stopped to "fuss" at
him. "Look at this mess," I said. "Why are you digging all your food
out of your dish? Don't you know you are supposed to EAT this?"
Reaching in, I easily picked him up, prying his back legs from the
cage wires. With all four limbs extended into a spread-eagle position,
he held his body rigid. As I placed this big, ol' smelly boy against
my chest, his front legs clung to me and he buried his face in my
shirt. I rubbed my hand over his too thin body and realized he was not
as healthy as I thought. I honestly thought I had picked him up to die
and that he could not have more than 15 minutes left with us.
Because I use a/d and Carnivore Care with my Jersey, I had a blender
of it in the ice chest. Using one hand, I poured a bowl and warmed it
for the hob, holding him in the other arm the entire time. He lapped
it up! He ate more, and more and more. He finally filled up and
relaxed some, then lay back in my arms and sighed. We put him in a
travel cage (donated by an anonymous donor through the IFC) with fresh
bedding and litter, and his own hammy. He slept. And, when he awoke,
he ate more. Suddenly, I thought he would live. An exam that evening
showed he had a bad canine and could not eat the hard kibble.
Mary Segalla had traveled from West Virginia to help Lori and she fell
in love with the big ol' stinky boy. She named him Gandalf after the
wizard in the Rings trilogy and we cared for him daily. Saturday I
went to Cincinnati to pick up some ferrets at the vet - including
Gandalf. Sunday I was at a professor's home an hour away, working on
my dissertation study. I got back to the house to find nobody there
and the "hospital ward" GONE! I ran to my room to see if my crew was
okay (they were) and as I came back into the kitchen, there was Lori
and Cindy and Mary and Julie and maybe even more people. I don't
remember, because all I wanted to know was, what happened to the
special babies?
It turns out these special people had been taking care of everything.
The vet had called with lab results. Gandalf had giardhia and Lancelot
had coccidia. They were on meds and had been moved from the general
population so it would not become rampant. I knew by my relief that he
was still there that I was hooked. I later told Mary that she couldn't
have Gandalf (who she considered taking home), that he was MINE!
So, why am I telling you this 3 months later? Because this morning, a
DE WHITE ferret, not a golden boy, followed me out of the ferret room
and into my bedroom. He climbed everything and jumped from the bed to
the back of a chair with ease. He stole a new duck (thanks, Brenda J.)
and tried to hide it behind the dresser. He LOVES stuffed animals, the
bigger the better. (His bunny is somewhere in my mother's garage,
where he pulled it through the cat door and hid it!) He has had his
left canines removed and can eat kibble, both soft and hard, although
he still inhales the soup! He grooms my toes individually by taking
ONE in his paws and nit-picking with his teeth all along the toe.
Gandy is curled up on my chest now, but stretches out, too. And,
occasionally, he picks up his head, sniffs the air and sighs before
settling down with his head on my shoulder once more.
--
Renee Downs |
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It was a beautiful, shiningly clean and fresh spring day at the Rainbow
Bridge. It had rained the night before, and all the puddles were edged
with bright yellow pollen. Fat black and yellow bumble bees made short,
buzzing flights between the mulched beds of tulips and daffodils.
Sandee Weasel lay in the grass amidst a scattering of small purple
crocus at the foot of the Rainbow Bridge, and waited. The soft breeze
bent her whiskers back against her face and she narrowed her eyes in
pleasure.
Then...a humming began in the distance...the worn wooden planks of the
Rainbow Bridge began to vibrate, and there was an incandescent flash of
light that made Sandee turn her face away, and then blink many times to
clear her vision.
Before her an almost unbelievably battered and mis-shapen small SUV
of a subtle silvery, brassy color stood in the middle of the bridge,
nearly filling it from side rail to side rail. It rolled very slowly
into the Afterworld, leaving small bits of shattered safety glass
behind. It rolled to a stop at the end of the Bridge, gave a single
pneumatic wheeze from its radiator, and the exhaust system detached
from the underside, and fell onto the ground with a clatter and a bang.
Sandee approached it carefully, respectfully. She cleared her throat
a few times and quietly addressed a few remarks to the SUV's front
grille.
"Are you OK?", the small weasel asked.
"Not really", said a wheezy voice from that bent and scraped grill. And
then the left headlight fell from its housing, and landed in the grass.
There was a long silence, and it said "I tried hard. I tried really
hard to keep them all in when we rolled."
"You did a very good job," said Sandee, with conviction in her voice.
The SUV continued "I wrapped my seat belt tight around my hoomin, and
just prayed."
"She is fine. Very sad about her small friend, but grateful to you.
Very grateful. You were a fine vehicle for many years of good service.
You brought her home safely hundreds of times. You carried an
unbelievable number of tons of her possessions from place to place
during her travels across America. Stacks of books, piles of medical
abstracts, bedding, clothing, hammies full of ferrets, chow, chicken
jerky treats, toys, snacks, bags of biscotti mix, cages. You carried so
many things that when your doors opened, things tumbled from you and
fell onto the ground. And you tried so very, very hard to keep everyone
inside when you rolled. No one could have asked more from you."
The SUV gave a small, sad snapping noise from beneath the hood as a
stressed line broke, and tears of bright green anti-freeze began to
rain upon the ground from beneath the mashed engine compartment. "But
I couldn't save them all!", it sobbed, and it began to vibrate. A bit
of shattered glass fell from the passenger side mirror, and then the
entire mirror fell into the grass, and rocked a few times.
"No," said Sandee. "Don't cry, friend. You are a true friend to
ferrets, having carried so many of us safely from that terrible place
in Ohio to Forever Homes. We will always love you. We want to keep you
here with us forever!"
The SUV sniffled a few times behind it's grill and said wonderingly
"I could stay here with you ferrets forever?"
"Forever," said Sandee. "And when you are ready the Big Boss will
straighten your bent bones, heal your sheet metal damage, restore
your glass and you will be just as you were when you rolled off of
the factory floor. Your paint will be new and perfect, not a scratch.
Your chrome will shine. Your carpeting will smell new, and wonderful.
And you will stay with us here, forever. We love you."
"You love me?" sniffed the battered vehicle.
"We love you," said Sandee.
"Could the Big Boss maybe give me real leather upholstery?" asked the
SUV. "And a rosewood dash?"
"Absolutely," said Sandee. "And I know a little ferret who came here
last night who very much wants to burrow into your front seat and make
a Forever Home, there."
The SUV was silent for a time, and the bright green anti-freeze tears
stopped falling into the long grass. "Well, that's OK, then" it said.
"Yes," said Sandee. "That's OK, then"
And the morning shone clean and sweet in the golden yellow sun, and
before everything cooled down to evening and time for bed, a certain
SUV parked beneath a forever blooming apple tree was re-united with
a ferrety friend, snugly burrowed into the stuffing of the new real
leather upholstered driver's seat.
Thank you, little SUV |
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