Post by Deleted on May 7, 2016 16:56:08 GMT -5
I have had six ferrets in the past year and change. Crinkles, who is still with me, was the first in the winter of 2015. I adopted her alongside a lover that left us the following spring. Crinkles gave me hope, a reason to get up for my day after he left.
The next three were adopted with my significant other last fall. Jinx, Kat and Sona were our baby girls, and we loved them with all our hearts. Jinx took a tumble from the top of her her cage at ten weeks old, and died in our arms before we really knew what had happened.
Then Kat was there, at the shop where we buy our kibble, lonely and about to be sent back to Marshall's because of her deafness. We couldn't let that happen to her. We were never sure why or how she passed. We put her to bed one night, and she just...never woke up. She was just twelve weeks old.
Sona came to us already deathly ill with pneumonia. Marshall's had sent her out too early, our vet estimated that she was just five weeks when we brought her home. We nursed her, and through frequent feedings, antibiotics, breathing treatments, and stays at the clinic, she started to become healthy again. We rejoiced and dared hope that maybe, maybe she would survive. She passed away after a midnight relapse stole her breath away before we could get her to a clinic. She was eight weeks old.
Next came Jack just after Thanksgiving, already one year old, rescued from a family that neither valued, or cared for him properly. He still dooks and dances and kisses us every day and I thank my lucky stars every night. His recovery gave us hope.
Socks, our precious baby boy, four months old, passed away from another mystery last week. Neither Simon, nor I can look at the empty cage without shedding a few tears. I cleaned it out today, took photos of it, thinking to perhaps sell or donate.
I can't bring myself to break it down and put it into it's storage box. It feels like every time I try, that I'm putting four little souls away.
The next three were adopted with my significant other last fall. Jinx, Kat and Sona were our baby girls, and we loved them with all our hearts. Jinx took a tumble from the top of her her cage at ten weeks old, and died in our arms before we really knew what had happened.
Then Kat was there, at the shop where we buy our kibble, lonely and about to be sent back to Marshall's because of her deafness. We couldn't let that happen to her. We were never sure why or how she passed. We put her to bed one night, and she just...never woke up. She was just twelve weeks old.
Sona came to us already deathly ill with pneumonia. Marshall's had sent her out too early, our vet estimated that she was just five weeks when we brought her home. We nursed her, and through frequent feedings, antibiotics, breathing treatments, and stays at the clinic, she started to become healthy again. We rejoiced and dared hope that maybe, maybe she would survive. She passed away after a midnight relapse stole her breath away before we could get her to a clinic. She was eight weeks old.
Next came Jack just after Thanksgiving, already one year old, rescued from a family that neither valued, or cared for him properly. He still dooks and dances and kisses us every day and I thank my lucky stars every night. His recovery gave us hope.
Socks, our precious baby boy, four months old, passed away from another mystery last week. Neither Simon, nor I can look at the empty cage without shedding a few tears. I cleaned it out today, took photos of it, thinking to perhaps sell or donate.
I can't bring myself to break it down and put it into it's storage box. It feels like every time I try, that I'm putting four little souls away.