Post by FerretsnFalcons on May 21, 2016 15:06:16 GMT -5
When the breeder first put Katie in my arms, I thought she was the sweetest little thing. While Sunny had nipped at my fingers, she was very calm. I thought, "I guess Sunny is the trouble maker, and Katie is the cuddly one." Little did I know then that I was completely wrong. Like most sprites, Katie thought she ruled the world. She was bossy. She wanted things to go her way. She stole mice and chicks from her brother. I don't think she ever sat still since I held her at the breeder's house. She nipped hard and often. She latched onto my wrist whenever I tried to "steal" the poop from the litter boxes. At first this aggravated me immensely, but after many attempts to sin-bin her, I honestly just gave up and accepted her for the fiesty devil that she was.
Of course Katie wasn't actually a horrible ferret. Despite her nipping and general bossiness, you had to admire her spunk. She loved to play, and once she was tired sometimes she would let me cuddle her. It was rare, but that made it more special. She was smart, and she almost always used the litter box, both inside the cage and out. Unlike Sunny, she dooked. And she had the CUTEST little face. No offense to Sunny, but she had a cuter face. It was so delicate and sweet, masking the fiesty, bloodthirsty weasel within. Surprisingly, she played nice with other ferrets and Teddy, Marcia's ferret, became her best friend (besides her brother). She was basically everything that Sunny wasn't, which made them such a great duo.
A couple weeks ago, I began to notice that Katie was drinking more. "Well, it IS getting hotter," I thought, "I'll keep an eye on it though." A couple days later, I came home from school to find that she was lethargic, and stumbling around because her back legs were weak. My mom and I rushed her to the vet, convinced she was going to have an insulinomic seizure. The vet took her BG. It was high: 153. I was worried, but the vet said he didn't want to give her anything until he knew what was wrong with her. He took an X-ray and a blood sample. The X-ray showed a large cyst on one of her kidneys. This was concerning, but the vet said the cyst wasn't necessarily the problem, and the bloodwork would confirm if her kidney function was damaged. I took her home and waited for the results to come back. She was drinking a lot but eating very little, and she didn't want to get out of her hammock. I was waiting anxiously for the results to come back. Then the vet could actually DO something. Then he could help her get better. The vet called the next afternoon. He told me that the normal ferret creatinine value is .8; Katie's was 7.2. The normal BUN is 33; Katie's was in the 200's. It wasn't just a kidney cyst; it was advanced renal failure. He said that they COULD hospitalize her for a week with an IV and see if she improved, but the prognosis was very poor. The kindest thing to do might be to euthanize her.
At that point I broke down sobbing, because I knew what I had to do. By this time she looked frail and skinny. She had stopped eating altogether and was grinding her teeth. Her spunk was all gone. She was no longer Katie, the fiesty little she-devil. She was a furry mass of pain and suffering. As I bundled her in her favorite hammock and put her in the carrier for her last vet visit, I told her that I loved her, and that I was sorry, so sorry. I should've seen the signs earlier. I should've taken her to the vet when I noticed her drinking more. When the vet tech handed me her limp body, I was still in disbelief. She was still young; she was put down a week before her 5th birthday. She had seemed fine the week before, and she went downhill so quickly. After I got home I left her body with Sunny. He sniffed around her a lot, then rested his head on her neck. I left them until I saw that he had turned away from her. He moped the rest of the day. It was heartbreaking to see him so sad. He lost the one friend he had had since he was born.
Katie was a special ferret to me. What she lacked in cuddliness she made up in spirit. Now when I think about her, I try to remember the good times: the first time she got to play downstairs, and she was bouncing off the walls, dooking. The day I got her her first teaser toy. Her first Christmas with my family. Whenever she chased Sunny all over the ferret room because he had a mouse that she wanted. She was an evil weasel, but I loved her anyway.
The very first picture I took of Katie (right after I got her):
One Last Cuddle: The very last picture I took of Katie (right before I took her to be put down):
Dook in peace, little Kates. I'm glad you are not suffering anymore, but Sunny and I will miss you. We will never forget you.
Of course Katie wasn't actually a horrible ferret. Despite her nipping and general bossiness, you had to admire her spunk. She loved to play, and once she was tired sometimes she would let me cuddle her. It was rare, but that made it more special. She was smart, and she almost always used the litter box, both inside the cage and out. Unlike Sunny, she dooked. And she had the CUTEST little face. No offense to Sunny, but she had a cuter face. It was so delicate and sweet, masking the fiesty, bloodthirsty weasel within. Surprisingly, she played nice with other ferrets and Teddy, Marcia's ferret, became her best friend (besides her brother). She was basically everything that Sunny wasn't, which made them such a great duo.
A couple weeks ago, I began to notice that Katie was drinking more. "Well, it IS getting hotter," I thought, "I'll keep an eye on it though." A couple days later, I came home from school to find that she was lethargic, and stumbling around because her back legs were weak. My mom and I rushed her to the vet, convinced she was going to have an insulinomic seizure. The vet took her BG. It was high: 153. I was worried, but the vet said he didn't want to give her anything until he knew what was wrong with her. He took an X-ray and a blood sample. The X-ray showed a large cyst on one of her kidneys. This was concerning, but the vet said the cyst wasn't necessarily the problem, and the bloodwork would confirm if her kidney function was damaged. I took her home and waited for the results to come back. She was drinking a lot but eating very little, and she didn't want to get out of her hammock. I was waiting anxiously for the results to come back. Then the vet could actually DO something. Then he could help her get better. The vet called the next afternoon. He told me that the normal ferret creatinine value is .8; Katie's was 7.2. The normal BUN is 33; Katie's was in the 200's. It wasn't just a kidney cyst; it was advanced renal failure. He said that they COULD hospitalize her for a week with an IV and see if she improved, but the prognosis was very poor. The kindest thing to do might be to euthanize her.
At that point I broke down sobbing, because I knew what I had to do. By this time she looked frail and skinny. She had stopped eating altogether and was grinding her teeth. Her spunk was all gone. She was no longer Katie, the fiesty little she-devil. She was a furry mass of pain and suffering. As I bundled her in her favorite hammock and put her in the carrier for her last vet visit, I told her that I loved her, and that I was sorry, so sorry. I should've seen the signs earlier. I should've taken her to the vet when I noticed her drinking more. When the vet tech handed me her limp body, I was still in disbelief. She was still young; she was put down a week before her 5th birthday. She had seemed fine the week before, and she went downhill so quickly. After I got home I left her body with Sunny. He sniffed around her a lot, then rested his head on her neck. I left them until I saw that he had turned away from her. He moped the rest of the day. It was heartbreaking to see him so sad. He lost the one friend he had had since he was born.
Katie was a special ferret to me. What she lacked in cuddliness she made up in spirit. Now when I think about her, I try to remember the good times: the first time she got to play downstairs, and she was bouncing off the walls, dooking. The day I got her her first teaser toy. Her first Christmas with my family. Whenever she chased Sunny all over the ferret room because he had a mouse that she wanted. She was an evil weasel, but I loved her anyway.
The very first picture I took of Katie (right after I got her):
One Last Cuddle: The very last picture I took of Katie (right before I took her to be put down):
Dook in peace, little Kates. I'm glad you are not suffering anymore, but Sunny and I will miss you. We will never forget you.
They hide illness SO well, and then go downhill too fast to do anything in many cases. 