Yesterday

It was not at all lost on me, that Dust in the Wind by Kansas was the first song to come on the radio, as I left the veterinary clinic with an empty carrier in one hand and a cardboard box in the other.

 

It's so hard to grasp that last week, at this time, she was fine. Last night, watching Roo go from sleeping area, to sleeping area, searching for her was absolutely heartbreaking.  Today, going through the routines, myself, but not having to watch that I didn't step on my permanent shadow--not having her attempting to engage me in chase--not having her constantly climbing up my pant legs--it just feels so quiet. So empty. The moments that she wasn't terrorizing my house, she was attached to me in one way or another. I am amazed by the memories created in such a short time. It's hard to believe I managed to get so attached in three months and it still isn't real that she left so quickly...

Not Even a Week...

X-rays and sonogram, today, showed that, indeed, her body was full of cancerous masses--lungs, liver, internal organs. Days left, if even. She was struggling with breathing and was basically a shell. No hope with chemo, already suffering too much. She spent the last few days in her sleeping sack, poking her head out when I would come in, but not much beyond that. It was the second time to go into a vet's office with hope and leave with nothing. At least this time, I knew it may be coming and it wasn't a complete shock. I really hoped we had a chance, though.

 

I was given the choice of having her put down or bringing her back home, giving her steroids and taking her back within the next days to be euthanized (if she didn't otherwise pass). I realized that she had been suffering immensely and that bringing her home for a few more days was due to me being unable to part with her; not due to what was in her best interest. It was a very long visit and a very difficult one, since I initially believed that she would be coming back home with me. At least we were given a few final days of snuggling and love before that--and thankfully, we were able to discover what was wrong with her and were able to make an educated decision based upon the diagnosis. I haven't been granted that luxury with all of my ferrets. 

 

It was most likely juvenile lymphoma.  It is an extremely fast moving, almost entirely untreatable cancer that shows up out of the blue, extremely suddenly and with pretty much no hope for survival. The choice made was agonizing, but it was the only possible choice that allowed peace, instead of struggling and pain for those last few days.

It's crazy. I had her three months; she just turned seven months old on December fifth (my little Cinco De Mayo baby).  Her time with me was extremely brief, but also one of the most precious that I have had in my 25 years of owning ferrets. It is hard for me to accept that she is gone--this was not supposed to happen this soon--but at least we had more fun in our three months together than some people/critters ever have. She truly blessed my life in her short time here--I am very thankful to have had her, no matter how short that time was. Really worried for her Roo, though.  He has lost three ferrets since May. He is just now back to a semi-healthy weight; we were pretty sure we were going to lose him, too. He went into a pretty significant depression as a result of the first two losses--Joey was a gift to him. But she ended up saving me, as well.

It's coming at a time when I am already breaking in a million pieces.  She was my daily light, love and laughter. I feel like I am sitting in the dark waiting for daybreak...

Day Five

First call, the vet stated that it looks like cancer and little hope--made playing therapist the remainder of the day almost impossible. She called again, later and said that she had sent the test results to a vet that deals specifically with ferrets (in another time zone, no less) and we are now waiting to hear their opinion, as well. Not looking good, either way. She is tolerating lots of cuddle time and still taking the Nutri-Cal, so that is how we have been spending most of our time together.  I am admittedly feeling horrible guilt that she is probably never going to be able to play with all of the awesome Christmas stuff that I bought for them. Not sure how Roo would handle losing a third ferret in a matter of months. I know I am not coping well with the idea.  On the bright side, if she pulls through, this has been incredible bonding time that we have shared these past few days.

 

I realize that nothing in life comes with a guarantee. All life, be it human or animal can be snuffed out at anytime and no matter when the end occurs, it is always too soon. I guess it is a reminder for me, not to wait on gifts--even the few weeks wait until Christmas ensured that Joey is not likely to ever enjoy the new toys. Christmas is going to very tight, this year, due to other factors--we aren't even sure when it will occur in our house. My thought was to wait until the fiance's kids were here, because they would enjoy seeing her discover her toys for the first time, as well. But due to waiting, I missed the opportunity. Granted, I didn't know--there was no reason to suspect that this was coming--but a lesson learned, none-the-less. Yes, my pets have always been my children--I have a very strong maternal instinct and have always needed to be surrounded by my babies; mine just happen to come in little fur suits.  And no matter how many times I go through this, the love each one brings ALWAYS outweighs the heartbreak. It just makes me miss the days of ferrets, ferrets everywhere--only having two has been hard. I really miss the days of being a shelter mom and having ferrets galore...

Day Four

Fingers crossed that Joey's blood work not only comes back today, but shows something useful. It has been since Friday and still no improvement. The youngest that I have lost a ferret, in the past, was two years old. She just turned seven months on the fifth and while I have only had her three months, she has completely taken over my life. Really struggling...