Frank's gone

I woke up this morning and stumbled out of bed into the hall. Frank was there on the rug, caught mid-pose as he was scrunching around on his back. A common enough sight, although he usually isn't awake in the mornings. I paused and gently stroked his tummy with my foot. He didn't move. My heart falling to the floor ahead of me, I crouched down to feel of him with my hands. His luscious soft fur was cool to the touch. I placed a hand under him to pick him up, and rigor mortis kept him stiff in his frozen position. That's when I knew. The very first ferret I ever decided to give a home, had died in the night.

I have no idea what killed him. He was healthy and perfect right up to the end. He kept his beautiful coat, he kept his peak weight, he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed every time I held him until this last time.

He died as he lived: vibrant and happy. I guess I take some degree of comfort in that, but is it enough when I didn't get to say good-bye? I feel so awful even though I know there's no better way that he could have gone. My heart is breaking yet again.

Amy and Drucilla

Two of the newer members of the haven are a feisty duo I call the Terrible Two. Amy and Dru were originally named Amelia and Ursala. I would say we shortened those for ease of pronunciation, but I suppose Drucilla just sort of renamed herself. Her full name is Drucilla Ursula Skittles, in honor of KitKat.

Their original owners were a couple of college kids who were moving to a new home where they weren't allowed pets. We found out about their dilemma on Craig's List. Though it was a sad farewell, the boys didn't want to see their babies go to a cage in the garage of their new place. We promised them their girls would never be caged at the haven.

Since coming home with us, Amy and Dru have proved to be double the trouble and twice the fun. What one won't get into, the other will. They are fearless, apt to be found climbing the outside of the cage in the ferret room or tunneling through your pant leg when you sit or lie down around them. They love to help you when you try to clean their room or scoop litter. While their help doesn't amount to much more than being in the way, you can't help but laugh at their squirming antics as they try to wiggle into the sack of used litter or ride the broom around the floor.

Corey

Friends had joked to me that I was running a ferret rescue because I had adopted so many fuzzies into my home. I never took it seriously until the day my vet's office called me with a plea. A lady had found a stray ferret wandering around her neighborhood. It was the middle of summer, and she couldn't give it a home because she traveled for work so much. Could I help? Well, how could I not assist a fuzzbutt in distress?

Rayne had gotten off work early that day, so she went to pick up the newcomer. The lady who had rescued him out of the street had given him a bath and said he was so flea-ridden that his little white face turned black with the onslaught of bloodsuckers trying not to drown. Before introducing him to the rest of the brood, we gave him a flea treatment and another bath. Then we kept him in his own pen for a couple of days to be sure he was disease-free.

During his quarantine, he was the picture of gratitude. He simply could not be cuddled or loved enough. Any food was fine by him, any bedding great, any litter box perfect. He exuded joy, as if he knew how dangerous his situation had been. Ferrets are not like dogs and cats - by running loose they can fall prey to, well, dogs and cats. They are also prone to heatstroke in the hot summer - they must be kept in air conditioning. With bad eyesight and a lack of a keen sense of direction, they lose their way easily. And yet, mischievous as two-year-old children, they live to escape their surroundings. By all rights, our Corey is a very lucky lad indeed.

That leaves only one other detail - a name. And I ask, as a child of the 80s.... what would YOU name a lost boy?

Bandit and Kodo

Bandit and Kodo came to a forever home here at the Ferret Haven at the request of my step-daughter's best friend. Her family owned them, but wanted them to be able to run free from room to room. Because of their large dog, they had to keep the pair caged. (While there is a cage in the Haven, the doors are off of it and fuzzies use it at their discretion for sleeping and climbing.)

Bandit was a large dark sable boy who had developed severe stomach ulcers. With the help of a brilliant vet, I nursed him back to health with daily shots and lots of duck soup. Duck soup is a concoction of cat food, baby food chicken, baby food bananas and Pediasure. It's wonderful for getting sick fuzzies to eat something nourishing when they're refusing their regular food. Though it took several months, Bandit gained over a pound and became a robust beauty with a thick, lustrous coat. He was cuddly like a teddy bear. We had a couple of good years together before he was taken too soon by a bladder blockage.

Kodo, on the other hand, was the fattest, most naked ferret I have ever seen. He was also one of the happiest. Jolly doesn't begin to describe his disposition. He was over five years old when we took him in, and the vet removed his spleen right away because it was the size one would expect the spleen of a 40-pound dog to be. Minus his massively enlarged spleen, Kodo regained a lot of mobility. He could be seen daily carrying around a tiny Winnie-the-Pooh doll with him from sleeping spot to sleeping spot. He loved Winnie so much, we buried it with him, all tucked up together in a blanket. He died of a stroke, after living a long and playful life.

I wish I had photos of Bandit and Kodo, but I can't find any at the moment. Unfortunately, it's like I've heard parents of multiple children describe their photographic experience - lots of pictures of the first-born, hardly any of the youngest siblings. I'm rectifying that now by taking lots of photos of the new kids on the block that I'll introduce in time.

Willie

Sir William Sniffs-A-Lot was a lover on the scale of Casanova, Don Juan DeMarco, or Valentino. Willie loved to sniff, and Willie loved to give kisses. No odor was too tantalizing, too offensive or too mundane to go uninvestigated. And no day was bad enough that a few well-planted Willie smooches couldn't make it all better.

The first time I met Willie at the Fuzzy Furbabies Ferret Rescue, I didn't sense an instant bond like I did with Kit Kat. As I was making up my mind to give a home to Kit Kat, Holly kept insisting "Take Willie. Trust me - take Willie!" I finally gave in and took them both. It was one of the best decisions I've made. This little clown wore himself out every day bringing joy to the humans and harmony to the fellow fuzzies in the business.

Willie's favorite fixture in the ferret rooms was this stuffed chair that quickly became "King William's Throne". Even now when I see another fuzzy curled up on it, it seems wrong. I wait for the playful ghost of my Willie to come nosing them out of his place.

Kit Kat

Kit Kat was a delicate light sable boy. He loved hanging out with Minnie and Nico. Since he was closer to their size than his fellow boys, he became affectionately known as a "girly-man". Above all else, he loved to play in the dig box. Dig boxes are fantastic ferret toys that you can make yourself. Just get a high-sided tub and a 10-pound bag of long grain rice. This is very important - it must only be uncooked long grain rice! The ferrets will sometimes eat the rice, and uncooked long grain rice will pass harmlessly through their digestive tracts.

If the tub sides are too high, you can cut a ferret-sized hole in one end to allow access. I started with the shallow tub in the photo and eventually settled on a five dollar storage tub from Walmart that my handy significant other cut a hole in for me. Some of the younger, more energetic fuzzies still climb over the sides, but the hole allows access for everyone to play. To assemble, just pour the uncooked rice into the tub and set it where the ferrets can find it. I promise hi-jinks will ensue. For less than ten dollars, it's better entertainment than a Hollywood movie.

Kit Kat is gone over the bridge now, but he is lovingly remembered by his humans.

Nico

Nico joined the family in January 2007. A wiry silver girl, she was notorious as the worst biter the original ferret rescue had ever seen. Nico's bite is the equivalent of taking a staple remover and jamming it as hard and fast as you can on to your face. She'd drawn blood from Holly at the ferret rescue on numerous occasions. Although Nico needed a forever home, she couldn't be trusted to anyone not willing to be wounded.

I took Nico home and began the exhausting process of gaining her trust. I cuddled her - very carefully and keeping my face far away from hers. I played with her, fed her, loved her like one of my own. She slowly warmed to the rest of the business, especially to her brother Paco, now that they were reunited. In time, I grew brave enough to steal quick kisses on the back of her head. A time or two, I did get nailed. The most disturbing part of being bitten wasn't the shock or pain, but the process of removing the ferret from one's nose when she did not want to let go. This must be done with great care so as to not harm the ferret or the nose any more than necessary, not to mention you are working essentially blind. Even if you could see the end of your nose with any clarity, the tears welling in your eyes from the pain obliterate your focus.

Over the course of the last three years, something amazing has happened. Nico has stopped drawing blood! She's become quite docile with her humans, though she rules the roost when the rest of the business is concerned. Earning her nickname of "Sister Nico", she ensures the cleanliness of each and every other ferret's ears and fur with the earnestness of a Catholic nun. No matter if it's a spry young boy half her age and twice her weight, no other ferret's will can stand in the way of Nico's.

One day about a month ago, I made the mistake of stepping on Nico's tail while I was backing out of the closet with an armful of fuzzies. I deposited the furry bodies in my arms and swept up Nico to apologize. Quick as a flash, she got the old dark glint in her eye and lunged for my chin. Before I could react, she'd snapped a gentle but firm love bite on me that did not break the skin. I was flabbergasted. My Nico-the-Notorious had actually learned to use her talented jaws with restraint to punish her favorite human without leaving a scar. If she were human, I would have given her a cap and gown that day, for it truly felt like a graduation.